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sssardonian-ssserpent · 3 months

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((Am i the only one that feels like they missed a huge narrative opportunity with Sir Pentious’s death?

Like yes, it is fine and good that he became the first redeemed soul, I’ve since made my peace with that and can concede that it has a ton of interesting narrative potential and ways to forward the plot that they still hope they use him with in season 2, but the way they could’ve made his sacrifice into something that would’ve been a PERFECT way to hammer in the narrative of the show, and yet they turned it into a useless anti-climatic gag that ultimately wasted what they could’ve done with it.

Like, for example, it has been noted and discussed many times in the fandom that the final fight is all about love and compassion triumphing over senseless cruelty. This is seen with how Lucifer comes in to save Charlie when all hope is lost, with how Angel saves the Eggbois from an exorcist because he knows Sir Pentious cares for them, how Cherri is there to help Angel fight because they’re friends and how Husk fights to protect everyone because he’s grown too fond of everyone else to walk away. The only one who ultimately doesn’t fight for love and compassion is Alastor, who tries to fight Adam one to one out of little more than pure ego and spite. And what happens? He gets his fucking shit rocked, is nearly mortally wounded, and flees from the battle entirely to avoid death.

And, ultimately, this is seen in Pentious’s sacrifice, as he takes off in his ship to try and face down Adam because he recognizes that he’s the biggest threat to their defenses and that if he’s allowed to continue his rampage, everyone will die. Of course, we all know how that sacrifice goes; Pentious being instantly obliterated in a single blast by Adam before Pentious can do anything, in a comedically abrupt and anti-climatic gag to offset the seriousness of the moment. And while it was initially funny in the moment, I think it severely weakened the tone of the moment and, ultimately, as I will explain, ruined what could’ve been a grand and drastic moment, not only for Pentious, but for the hope and love Charlie inspired in him.

You see, the line Adam says directly afterward after killing Pentious is “that could’ve been ugly.” Which, to me, heavily implies that if Pentious had actually gotten off a shot, it probably would’ve done damage and actually hurt Adam, which might’ve helped turn the tide of the battle even before Lucifer had shown up.

So then I got to thinking, imagine if he HAD gotten the shot off? Imagine if he HAD actually wounded Adam?

Sir Pentious. A demon constantly craving recognition and attention, who was never able to get it. Someone who was always considered a useless weakling, a laughing stock, a desperate pathetic idiot who was better off dying than ever being able to be anything of worth in the eyes of most demons and Overlords in Hell, despite how hard he tried to become just as fearsome as them. A demon regarded as a nobody, unrecognizable and totally worthless and forgettable, in Alastor’s eyes, and in the V’s.

A demon everyone has looked down and regarded as weak, hurting the First Man, the leader of the Exorcists, wounding him, in a sacrificial effort to protect his friends. Hurting the most powerful Exorcist in Heaven, out of love for his friends, to protect them and save them from death, when Alastor, a selfish and sadistic egotist who didn’t care about anyone else, wasn’t able to put a scratch on him.

Imagine Pentious being able to hurt Adam more in a noble sacrifice to save his friends than Alastor of all demons, who was unable to when he was only fighting for himself. The poeticism in that. The rawness of that, in a story all about how love and compassion and kindness for others can triumph over the most senseless cruelty and hatred.

Imagine if the blast had gone off.

Imagine if it had caught Adam at the last second. Grazing a shoulder perhaps. Burning his wing. Sending him tumbling out of the sky.

He sends a holy blast up toward the ship, enraged by the fact that he got struck by such a lowly sinner, and the ship can’t get out of the way in time, and Pentious knows that.

One of the Eggbois is screaming and shouting about an incoming attack and how the ship is unable to evade.

And Pentious just slowly takes off his hat, and as the light of the holy beam begins to consume the room, he just goes “….I know.”

He dies, accepting his death, not fearing it, knowing that what he did may have been enough to save his friends.

Cut to the ship being instantly obliterated in a massive cacophonous explosion while everyone looks on in horror from the ground.

Wouldn’t that have made his sacrifice, and his consequent redemption in Heaven, so much more worth it? So much more heavy hitting?

Wouldn’t that have made it actually mean something? Instead of it being made into a joke?

#hazbin hotel spoilers #sir pentious

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anthurak · 1 year

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I’ll admit this is probably a good chunk of the Whiterose shipper in me talking,

But I am hoping so much that it’s WEISS who takes charge of going after Ruby.

I mean how fucking POETIC would it be for Weiss, who’s spent the entire volume caught up in her own head and has in some respects been the most oblivious to Ruby’s problems, even being unknowingly critical of her supposed ‘usefulness’ a few times, spent the last couple episodes focusing on Jaune, to the point of symbolically partnering up with him this episode rather than Ruby...

...to turn right around after seeing Ruby’s breakdown and go ‘holy shit why did I not see this earlier, my partner needs HELP and dammit I am going to go and make sure she gets it!’

Also, did anyone else notice the shot focus on JUST Ruby and Weiss when Ruby flies off with Weiss reaching out to her?

I know I fucking did.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #white rose #otp #whiterose vibes #GIVE US THE RUBY/WEISS PARTNER ARC ALREADY CRWBY!!

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girlboypersonthingy · 3 days

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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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treesspeaklatin · 1 year

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Beautiful Spirk fics with less than 400 kudos - part 1

part 2 here

It’s fic rec time! These are some of my favorite spirk fics, go give some love to these works and their creators!

I Wish I could Show you, by zjofierose (AOS)

The pinnacle of h/c, and it’s extremely well written. Spock is traumatised and needs Jim, so it's finally time to be honest with their feelings for both of them. Featuring one of my absolute favourite things: Jim Kirk falling to his knees because he's in looooooove.

Palm to palm is holy palmers kiss, by Ahria (AOS)

Oh, this Jim. I love it when Jim is convinced he's not loved back and is a pining mess, but he's also delightfully Jim, so pure, honest, straightforward and brave. This fic is a perfect p0rn whit feelings + hand kink, one cannot want more than this.

This Empty Place, by CateAdams (TOS)

God, I love this author. This fic has a standard, comforting setting: Spock and Jim get stuck together during a mission gone wrong, and you can imagine what happens next. I love it when they talk quietly and find a way to come to terms with their feelings. No more bullshit, just love. Bonus, this fic is written in a wonderfully poetic way.

Meet Me at the Barricade, by lalazee (AOS)

I am obsessed with this fic. Seriously, I don't understand why it's not linked everywhere. It's a detailed AU where Jim lives among the Orions, and it explores the warrior side of the t'hy'la bond, with a vaguely mirror-like spirk. Warning for gore and violence, but if you're not sensitive to that sort of thing, read on, you won't regret it.

Bashert, by Herself_nyc (TOS + AOS)

I will never stop loving fics where aos spirk meets tos spirk. There is also something in this fic that I didn't think I wanted, namely an impatient Prime Kirk who not only doesn't take any crap, but is also very distrustful of aos kirk.

The Sweetness of the Poisoned Fruit, by tuvokholdmyhandchallenge (MIRROR)

I can't stress enough to read the tags for this one, but: mirror spirk, non(dub?)-con, alien biology. That's exactly what it seems, and if you like this shit, go for it.

no place for cowards (or: jim kirk's heart is a tender place), by alienbabe (molotovgirl) (AOS)

This one deserves something like 3k kudos. A perfect character study of Jim, beautifully written, it will make your heart ache.

An Endless Stream of Tomorrows, by remylebae (TOS)

Aaaah, so cute! After The One With the Whales, Jim asks Spock to marry him. I loved their banter, the dialogues are perfect, and this sassy, calm Spock drives me crazy.

Two Very Different Men, by Wingittofreedom (MIRROR)

I am so weak for this kind of mirror fic. P0rn with a lot of feelings, plus the mortifying ordeal of being known. Bonus for beautiful art.

due consideration, by tciddaemina (TOS)

A fic in which Spock realises he is in love and does the only logical thing: he carefully reasons about it. Extremely in character for both Spock and Jim, and they talk about it like two adults, coming to terms with each other and putting their relationship into perspective. And then, of course, lots of feelings + hand kink!!!

#spirk #spirk fic #spirk fic rec #k/s fanfic #k/s fic rec #k/s fic #kirk/spock #star trek #star trek TOS #star trek aos

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 23 days

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to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

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ciderjacks · 11 months

Note

I watch some of Watcher's stuff, tell me whatever you want about Shane Madej!

HOUGHHHH. OHHRHFHTHABK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOY

i think a lot of people who are aware of Shane sort of just think of him as the skeptic guy on bfu/ghost files (not saying that’s u obv just a lot of ppl bc I guess I need this to be a pitch meeting) and I think that is a shame because HOLY SHIT HES SO TALENTED AND COOL AND WEIRD AND THE SHIT HE MAKES IS SO FUCKIKNG INSANELY GOOD

Ok so going back in time for a second to b*zzfeed. Who btw did not deserve this guy. Afaik he had two major like, creative projects on there. Ruining History and The Hot Daga. Both were very good. ruining history was a fun history show he did with Sara and Ryan and there are rotating guests every episode. Shane is very interested in history, very good at teaching history, and i think in an alternate universe hes a beloved high school history teacher. Ruining History is the father of puppet history. B*zzfeed canned it and i miss it every day. and then there’s the other father of Puppet History, Hot Daga. Hot Daga is insane. I love Hot Daga, its not for everyone, but I think its so good. The lore goes crazy, he produced and made original songs for it, he animated the whole final half season by himself which is fuckinf insane. He made a ballad for it and actually i need everyone reading this to Listen to “believe me maizey” and then directly after listen to the Meteor Ballad from Puppet History. OH LOOK A SEGWAY

Puppet history is so fuckinf good. Its So Good. And especially in later seasons since hes doing so much you really start to see his improvement as an artist and its just. Its incredible. Some of the somgs are genuinely fucking masterpieces, like some of my favs are The Flower Boat Song, Asmodeus, The Horse and God song, the Emu song, Big Pile Of Diamonds, Infinitiger, The Window Song, Gay Oars Duet, Hologram Professor Song, and the Meteor’s Ballad. And more. Uhh OH the Olympic Torch is really good too. His lyrics are so smart and fun and his vocals are so impressive and he has such good range, he duetted Himself for the Oar song and managed to make the two voices identifiable as separate characters without being over the top. The lyrics range from poetic anf beautiful to weird and funny often within the Same song! Its just so good and he starts so good and gradually over the years he’s done the show you can see him getting more comfortable and better at music which is crazy causw again HE STARTED OFF GOOD! HE WAS INSANE IN HOT DAGA AND HE IS SOMEHOW EVEN BETTER IN PUPPET HISTORY LIKE! and and and ok here’s where I get crazy and a little parasocial (lol not really i am misusing that word for the bit LOL)

Something about all his work is that you can kind of see how his art depicts the world. In Hot Daga you get the line “what else can you do in the face of such monumental loss, but breath a weary sigh as the world is a little quieter now.” And in Puppet history you get uh actually you get like 20 things from the meteor song but one of my favorite parts is (read blue as the professor, orange as the meteor, pink as both) “some shit’s just etched into the stars, calamities you cant outrun/and when sweet earth we finally meet/the sky will burn and boil the sea/as mountains rend/its you and me.” i think both these lyrics and these somgs demonstrate a maturity about the world that you dont really see in a lot of people, his general kindness towards anything and everything and his ability to change perspectives on things without being forceful. (On a personal note I listened to The Meteor song after someone I knew passed, and as dumb as it maybe sounds the idea that like,, death is not cruel, you can’t always run and sometimes the best thing you can do is be there with the people you love as the world ends.) and also I think that you really can tell that he views the people he’s telling you about as People and not just like, figures. Ykwim. He shows such genuine respect and care for everyone in these stories and I’ve already like briefly in these stories but like, you KNOW if a guy can make me cry for the Meteor that killed the dinosaurs then he’s something special. i also think the way he portrays death in his work is very comforting as a whole. and another thing speakinf of rhat is that he has so much respect for other cultures in a level I think that goes beyond just bare minimum not being a piece of shit. Like especially when he’s teaching history, an example that always sticks out to me is how much effort he put into making sure people remembered and thought about Hatshepsut by having a whole episode on her history then also making an EXTREMELY (probably intentionally so though i cant be sure bc I can’t reas minds) catchy song that Told you to think of Hatshepsut and explained Why uou should think of Hatshepsut and it’s been stuck in my head ever since I first heard it years ago. Also I’m consistently impressed by his good pronunciation of things, I remember in the Tunguska event episode of mystery files there were so many ppl from tbe area he was talking about shocked by how good his pronunciation was. And ive seen that so many times w him like, idk i just think thats very cool. He’s a genuinely really mature and respectful guy I think. Wise too. So much of his work has educated me, changed my worldview for the better, inspired me. Like He’s so talented ik i keep saying that but HE IS!

Like ok so. He can write both songs and stories beautifully. he’s wise as fuck and could probably be a philosopher. He can make puppets (and just tbc later season puppet history the puppets are not him, but in the early seasons afaik they were all him, so he is definitely skilled at that.), he can sing, he can voice act, his graphics and editing are off the charts, he’s educated and smart, hes funny. He’s so fuckinf cool.

also again getting parasocial here but I just really like how much of a zest for life the guy seems to have. And Honestly im impressed that he worked in retail, had actual trash thrown in his face by an angry customer (true story) and still came out it like “man the world sure is wonderful!”. What a guy. And He’s so fucking weird and interesting and I could seriously just listen to him rant about Literally anything Forever. Anything. It doesnt matter I think he could talk about anything in a way that would make me invested in it and i’d come out of it more educated than before with a fresh new perspective on life.

This is getting Essay-like so here are some other Random Shane Things I know to close me out I guess

-he loves community was in the community fandom and has a crush on troy barnes

-he wants to be a mouse

-he’s lived 7000 years

-was DB cooper

-makes a fine ass Krampus

-actually the coolest guy alive

sorry this is almost 100% incomprehensible thank you for letting my autism loose tho

#ask tag #shane madej #Um. Yeah. Hhahaha so when insaid I had autism about rhis guy uh Inwasnt kidding #we are watcher #puppet history #hot daga

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beanghostprincess · 4 months

Note

SanUso isn't my OTP (LuSan is) but I still enjoy the ship. I love seeing all the cute moments canonly between Sanji and Usopp. And I'll never understand why people don't see it. There's so many moments between Sanji and Usopp in the anime, manga, and holy shit was there extreme SanUso vibes in OPLA.

So, I get your pain when people say they don't see it as a ship. I always find it really hard to find people who love LuSan. It always hurts and frustrates me when people don't see or understand LuSan as a ship. Luffy and Sanji literally had the Baratie and WCI arcs dedicated to their relationship.

So, just letting you know I'm glad you're filling the tag for your ship. I'm sure your fellow shippers really appreciate it.

I just read the first line but Lusan is amazing. Lusan and Sanuso solidarity. Actually, just put them together. Make it gayer. More love for Sanji. Lusan my beloved. Okay, let me read the rest-

NOO THIS IS SO SWEET!!!!!!!!! I love filling the tag because it's the only thing I have in mind lately, honestly. Sanuso is eating my brain. Like little annoying romantic worms. People who don't get the ship don't know how to read. I am going to explode. Sometimes I just don't understand people. Their bond is BEAUTIFUL and they're the softest best friends to lovers ever, with so much arguing and bickering too. They're stupid to lovers, actually. I love them.

And worry no more bestie I absolutely love Lusan. WCI was a whole Shakespearian novel. Jane Austen type of shit. They make me go insane too. I think I've written like two fics about them and they're probably from my favorite works. They're SO poetic. People barely talk about Sanji's devotion to Luffy and Luffy's love for him. Like the guy starved for Sanji. I am dying. They make me sick. They're so gay and you're so right. People should ship them more. Underrated ship for two people that have a whole ass arc about them. Luffy didn't create romance in WCI for people to ignore it. Taylor Swift would've been proud. Every time I think about WCI, Speak Now and Love Story play in the back of my head. Imagine how romantic they are.

#i think the three of them should kiss actually #and zoro but this isn't about him now #besides zoro ships are so popular this isn't his post #sanuso and lusan my beloveds #one piece #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #usopp #sanuso #lusan

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king-aridam · 1 month

Text

⚠️TW: RA mentions, SA mentions, a shit ton of religious and violent imagery⚠️

MY HEARTBEAT, A WAR DRUM

“If I find your soul do you want it? // I see it everywhere, past the death visage. // If I find your soul do you want it? Do you even know? // Do you even know what part of you you are?” –”From in the Pines” by Alice Notley

Drum beats thrumming in my head.

I watch, a sinner.

My legs are not long enough in this body.

Guilt serpentined ‘round my neck like the Serpent of Eden,

Tasting burning crimson and violent jade upon my tongue.

I know what I’m to witness.

I know I cannot stop it.

Suffocation via the Devil.

Flashes of memory, of feeling

Things I locked away so long ago.

I struggle to cry tears relating to my experiences, and when I do,

I wonder which me they belong to.

These forbidden vaults have cracked open, I can’t fix this nightmare.

I feel possessed,

Beats thrumming harder,

In time with my heartbeat.

My childhood bedroom was the first grave I woke up in,

and at 3:33 in the morning on the pulpit floor I became God.

To be a Daughter made of this cursed flesh is a humiliation,

shame flocks to me like flies to rotting meat.

Saccharine honeycomb gripped in my teeth,

Swallowing pomegranate seeds,

Entrapping my soul upon that wretched floor, upon that wretched cross.

More flashes of memory.

Golden crucifix, white teeth bared in a grin.

I asked God to give me strength, and He turned his gaze away from me.

Instead I stared down the burning red eyes

and felt myself get fucked into the floor,

all blood, no tears, never a word from my honey stained lips.

I care not for God, because he cares not for me,

and so I became Him.

Beats thrumming in my head like war drums.

I watch him and he watches me.

I think he knows I’m not her.

I turn off the emotions. Lock them away.

I feel nothing when I look at them.

Past tense.

Now I can’t stop feeling and it’s eating away at my sanity.

Self-cannibalism.

Blood soaks through my claws, guts drip from my jaws,

I stare into the face of the Devil and I’m trying to turn it off.

I can’t turn it off.

Everybody wants a taste,

One by one,

Of the god-bled glow,

The righteous purity you preach,

God, I’m going to be sick.

Was it good for you?

Was my performance adequate?

The Devil taking a blade to the Lamb’s vile throat.

This grief and suffering has torn me open,

this rage, a hemophilia.

I bleed and bleed and bleed.

It’s not poetic anymore. It’s just violence.

It’s just red. It’s just pain.

He attached these heavy wings on my shoulders,

halo tight ‘round my neck like a dog collar.

I’m not meant to disobey.

I still hear the war drums.

More flashes of memories.

I am sick from fear.

My hands shake like I’m seizing, I can’t feel my face.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

MAKE IT STOP!

Crucifixion.

I want to kill them.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

I choke on my own blood.

Violence in its rawest form.

My heartbeat is a war drum.

I hang from my crucifix and stare into HIS dark eyes,

the eyes of a snake.

I see your teeth,

white and sharp, flashing a grin at me.

You’re trying to be friendly.

I know who you really are.

You killed us on Sundays.

Stabbed your fingers into the wounds,

filled us with your filth.

I can only imagine the ways I would kill you back.

I am a being of Wrath.

I used to want to bury it, but now I want revenge.

I refuse to lie beneath you again.

I chose a self-made sort of righteousness.

I became what You wanted to be,

A self-proclaimed holiness like a hot brand on my skin,

I tore myself apart like a dire wolf wrapped in sheep’s clothing.

A dying God in the skin of a child.

Monsters create monsters,

and yet they are surprised when I bare my teeth and snarl.

I may be a disobedient wretch, but at least I’m not You.

Though I have found that the rage does not want to go back to its cage.

Now that it’s broken free,

The war drums beat even stronger still.

This anger is better than tears.

Better than agony.

Better than the torturous affliction of divinity.

Better than the torments that hell will surely give me.

Better than the shame of my existence

You think I asked to be this way?

A mainframe of apathy,

a creature of cold, dead eyes

and an iron-clad heart,

A wretched thing of torment and guilt?

This prison of life is the only gift you gave me.

So now I will scream with the voice of a man

until every shattered piece of me knows the truth.

I will use this life I have and live it

so that you regret that you did not kill me.

You made me a creature to be feared.

So fear me.

#my poetry #aridam’s anger

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

Text

it's high time that i redid the ✨masterpost✨ of all the shit floating around this blog where i say anything arguably insightful, existential/philosophical, or even just teetering on the cusp of being vaguely intelligent, so voila here you go and fucking enjoy:

worth having a looksie through this: longwinded anon (LWA)✨ masterpost

and then because i am actually so proud of these i did video edits to lewis capaldi (he's my hozier fight me) and im sorry but my beat matching is insane, godlike even:

season 2 (forget me)

season 1 (heavenly kind of state of mind)

also:

did i get emotional over crowley's fall and having to leave behind his creations and aziraphale's various conflicts in faith? you're goddamn right i did (credit to hillywood for the fall scenes that sent me into a frenzy)

stuff that is potentially relevant to s3 or is essentially my safe space to shit on these two incompetent-ass characters for being the most ridiculous beings god ever conceived:

(be warned, all of these will conflict each other bc im a loose cannon, a wildcard, and can't settle on a single thing)

(no seriously my opinion changes over time so interpretations that i once held might no longer be the interpretation that i have now, ya feel me)

you wanted a s3 plot prediction, right?

aziraphale brought an ak-47 to a fist fight and ohooo boy did it have Consequences

god i really ought to work out a tagging system in here, huh - this is my ramble on what i think could have happened during the fall

just a small one on the 1967 scene and the holy water thing (tw: suicide)

crowley found the book of life and tbh it was very james bond of him

saraqael rapidly slotting into my top 5 GO characters based on a singular hc wahoo

fuckin ✨1941✨ (this also upsets ALL of my interpretations of the Final Fifteen which... well what can u do)

a fucking rug just put shivers down my spine

more on raphael/azazel/scapegoat/fall theory, glorious smart anons are feeding me yummy soup

perhaps a more comprehensive rambling on omelas, scapegoats, and Those Promo Photos

an updated maggie rambling why not, she's still giving me a headache (and this ask neatly summarises some stuff too!)

my boy crowley really doesn't like change, does he wee baby (may develop this into a full meta who knows)

you know i think heaven might just be the bad place, i know - shocker

god i hope i was possessed by agnes nutter when i wrote this

a gifset format bc i cba to write, but aziraphale might have been, or might become, raphael

ive lied like a rug in previous theory posts: THIS one, this time travel clusterfuck, is the bottom of the barrel

spent hours studying michael sheens face in utter disbelief that he is capable of portraying every emotion known to man, and wrote about it (ie my take on the kiss)

i think goob might have been more important in the mega miracle than we initially thought (and no - not in the way you're currently thinking)

aziraphale and suffering are pretty well acquainted with each other (warning: i absolutely HATE this meta it's so bad)

um i guess you could term this as god is dead theory? nietzsche strikes again anyway

we REALLY hit rock bottom in the theory stakes with this one, lads (it's about whether crowley does in fact fully remember the fall)

(REWORKED) greasy johnson is the second coming. that's it. that's the post.

finally wrote about the book of life well done me

crowley was offered the same chance as aziraphale, im fairly sure, and as far as ive seen noone noticed??

the motif of lies in job made me come over all poetic

relativity is NOT my milieu especially in GO but giving it my best shot

hahaha is everything aziraphale's fault hahahaha

fuckinnnn BOOOOOOKKKSSSSS

EVERY DETAIL MATTERS? YEAH I SHOULD FUCKING THINK SO (and im still keeping this on here bc if im right in s3 im never going to shut up)

job is crowley and crowley is job except job didn't get sent to sit on the naughty step

never thought id see the day where i analyse richard curtis' 4WAAF but this show has got me whipped, jumping through hoops and over stalls like a fucking show pony

i have the dreadful feeling that we might have been fools by sleeping on aziraphale's own angelic importance all this time

did the costume department just simply go ham in s2 or are the angel costumes Important?

more on outfits

ruminations on the fall, morality and omniscience vs. free will, and making choices as if i have any idea what im talking about

okay this one is a little shitpost-y but the message is sound and im an un-apologetic aziraphale supporter, sue me

a sprinkle of s2 symbology, a dash of ineffable plan speculation, and laure girlbossing on how the two go together mwah

this was sooooo tasty i love talking about nietzsche

honestly this one doesn't even have a theme i just like talking to people

okay so this is the genesis of my aziraphale defence league (population: like 15% of the fandom) but i will not stop until he gets the recognition and empathy he mf deserves

Cancel Metatron 2k23

this was pre-s2 but the concept still stands: something feels icky about crowley's fall narrative and the book of life is ringing alarm bells

the concept of pedestals is one of my juicy favourites in psychology and you will find out just how much if you stick around this blog long enough (aziraphale's critique)

and lastly crowley's narrative of his fall? hm, big issue there and honestly the root of all Crowley discourse on this blog, be duly warned

old stuff if you fancy having a giggle at my expense

come chat to me about things

#good omens #no need to interact if you dont want to but feel free to like #this is honestly so i don't have to scroll through my blog shitpit to find old theoties etc #toodles✨

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almost-correct-quotes · 4 months

Text

lyrics that remind me of dion and kane / their plotline <3

if there's no character specified it's either about them together or the plotline in general

it's tumblr, so the colors are messed up but you get what im trying to do its supposed to be aesthetic

Dion: Turn and Go - {Parentheses}

When the night is turning sour Due to the lateness of the hour Doesn't mean it has to end Just turn and go You just need a change of scene Somewhere happy, somewhere green You don't have to be alone Just turn and go

I announce that I am leaving, no one seems to care No one even takes a second glance But I am with the people that I love the most And that's always more fun without a plan

Dion: Lying in the Middle - Spence Hood

Why should I make up my mind Just to change it overnight What a magnificent way to waste my time You know I would rather live my life Rife with riddles Lying in the middle of the Kinsey scale The world’s a buffet and I came to get my fill

Dion: Doing This Again! - Bears in Trees

I hope I'll be resilient I hope to be brave in the face of another family cancer My mother 'cites a rosary downstairs But lord, these blessed words fail me

Love Takes Time - Philip Labes

It takes more than some roses, for roots to intertwine To open up the doors to your interior design Sneaking in the baggage, that we couldn't leave behind

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

When I'm dead, I won't join their ranks 'Cause they are both holy and free (…) Make me love myself, so that I might love you Don't make me a liar, 'cause I swear to God When I said it, it was true

Paul Revere - Noah Kahan

One day, I'm gonna cut it clear Ride like Paul Revere And, when they ask me who I am I'll say, "I'm not from around here"

I'll leave before the road crew's out Before those joggers, looking way too proud And I'll turn up the music and I'll forget Until it ends, that I'm not ready to let go yet

How I Survived Bobby Mackey's Personal Hell - Lincoln

Well, if there’s one thing that I'm sure of It’s that I think too much about shit that doesn’t matter And I don’t think enough about things that make a difference

You left some holes in the plotline I left some holes in your clothes And we can argue semantics over who left who first

Dion: Downhill - Lincoln

I went downhill at such steep incline That my rearview mirror showed me only the sky And I laughed about it all night

And I said “Hey man, isn’t it poetic That the sky is what we leave behind?” Because I was born into the world on a silken cloud And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground

From Eden - Hozier

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me, I should know

There's something broken about this But I might be hoping about this Oh, what a sin

Out of Time - Philip Labes

Tick, tick, tick goes any good thing Forever is a diamond lie We can't stop the clock, so let's just talk Until our heartbeats rhyme Until we're out of time (...) And if you believe that fate brought us together Then you must believe that it tore us apart But I do not believe That we live in a machine I think the ticking that you're hearing is a heart

Kane: Is It Honor That I Want? - Sushi Soucy (it's LITERALLY him. screaming)

I know the guidelines That I've lived by my whole life So well that I could sing them Be a good kid, be a good brother Be a good son, be a good loyal servant to the kingdom

Why am I so confused? I have everything I want Yet it feels like I have nothing left to lose Is the world really falling to pieces? Do we really have to iron out the creases? Have I been told my whole life something that isn't true? Because I really have no idea what to do

I curse the heavens up above Is it really honor that I want Or is it love?

The Title Track - Origami Angel

Sometimes it gets hard to be alive And you know that better than I do Better than I do Sometimes you need somewhere else to go Somewhere that nobody can find you No one will find you

But if you wanna be somewhere you don't have to be alone Or distraught or anything at all Baby, you don't have to be, pack all your things And we'll move to Somewhere City If you want to be someone that you never have to hide Or keep bottled up on the inside Baby, you can set it free, just come with me And I'll show you Somewhere City's waiting for you

Dion: Re-Do - Modern Baseball (i have to put mobo on every single playlist somewhere soz)

I wanna start from the top Maybe like a do-over Replace the voices in my head With blind innocence

I want a complete re-do Maybe change my name Report the losses, grab the claim "It's a shame, it's such a shame"

Kane: Stick Season - Noah Kahan

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined You must've had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

#reverie audios #reverieaudios #reverie audios dion #reverie audios kane

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momocicerone · 10 months

Text

You know, sometimes I question my decision of not writing one single kissing scene in this fanfic, and it’s times likes this —ever the first one, but reassuring nonetheless— that I am happy I didn’t.

If you’ve read my other fandom stuff, some of you would know that I used to write a lot of sexual tension fluff, kissing scenes and poetic sex and passionate yearning. I like writing about subtly brushing fingers over your skin or soft whispers on your ear and all that… it warms my heart and makes me feel as happy as the next person.

But for some reason, i find it hard to write when it comes to coai/shinshi. Granted, I have written thirst fics and smut fics for them… but every time I tried to add intimacy of any sort to any chapter of chasing clouds, I felt like it would ruin them. It would ruin them.

They were too lost in their personal journey to find each other before it was time, and even when it was time (the airport scene), they were too busy making sure the other was real, that this —the rest of their lives— was real.

I think one of the things that most intrigue me about the coai/shinshi relationship is how close yet how far they are. I’ve played with that concept in Vacancy (“saying we were friends is a stretch, saying I loved you is insanity”) it is fascinating to me how you can have that kind of deep bond to someone who’s practically a stranger to you. You may spend your days with them, but do you know them? Do you tell them your secrets, your hopes, your likes and dislikes? Do they tell you theirs? For people as observant and analytical as Shiho and Shinichi, the mutual understanding they have comes mainly from observation and deduction, more so than endless hours of personal chat. And so, they inevitably fall in love with each other, but never have the chance to close that gap. At that point in the fic, it was too soon for them for physical intimacy, as innocent as a kiss might had been. The forehead touch represents them finding each other on the same page after deciding they had a chance, her hands on his lapel holding on to him for the first time ever after never daring to even have feelings for him, the way she buries into his arms and lets herself go— it reflected the journey they had so far, as a conclusion and at the same time contradiction of their love story, in that specific universe.

They weren’t there yet. They were strangers in love that took five years to give themselves a chance, and they were too busy grasping the reality of what they had in their hands to explore anything deeper, let alone on a physical level.

Would it take them long to get there, in this particular universe? Nah. When the sense of surreality subsides and they realize that, holy shit, this is my person now… they will have no further reservations, but that’s not a narrative for this particular fanfic.

this was mainly a Shiho character analysis fanfic, told from her POV, altho she’s proven to be an unreliable narrator. The story had a theme followed a very specific theme, and there simply wasn’t necessary to diverge from it.

To me, as the author, I feel like this story is as complete as it could ever be.

Now, spin-offs, however — 🥹

#chasing clouds #my writing #myfanfiction #coai #shinshi

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nyxlaufeyson · 9 months

Text

Treehouse

Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Third

Ship: None, just Frigga & Loki (NOT ROMANTICALLY THE &=PLATONIC OKAY)

Type: Fluff

Wordcount: 708

TW: None

Synopsis: Odin gets mad at Loki for something that wasn't his fault, so he runs off to his treehouse in the woods and Mother Frigga finds him. <3

Day 4 of AU-gust: "Runaway"

A/N: WHY HASN'T IT OCCURRED TO ME TO WRITE LOKI & FRIGGA FLUFF??? THIS SHIT CURES DEPRESSION*

ALSO HOLY CRAP AS I'M WRITING THESE NOTES, TREEHOUSE BY KELSEYDOG COMES ON, NO JOKE??? This song wasn't the inspo for this, but actually fits really well... So maybe listen to it after reading.

*Don't take my word for it and don't quit your medicine after reading this**, okay? That's probably not a good idea. :) **Unless it's illegal medicine then that's a nono but I ain't a snitch

Loki ran through the forest, every few seconds checking behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Odin had just gotten done yelling at him, once again, for something he didn’t have much control over. So, to remedy this, Loki had taken off once he was out of sight.

This wasn’t the first time he had run off, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, if there was an event he was supposed to go to, guards would be sent out to find him, but oftentimes they just let him be.

That was, unless Frigga found out. If Loki’s mother noticed his absence, she would immediately go look for him herself.

Loki found himself at the treehouse he and Thor had made together several years ago. Thor mostly had forgotten about it, but it had become Loki’s sanctuary. He climbed the ladder, skipping the third rung, as it was broken.

Inside the treehouse, there was a bookcase Loki had filled with some of his comfort books, along with sketchbooks and art supplies scattered on a nearby table.

Loki picked up one of his books and began to read as he listened to the birds’ chirping outside, followed by the rustle of the leaves in the wind.

After some time had passed, Loki heard someone walking around below. He listened for a minute, hearing the footsteps come to a stop around the front of the treehouse. He could tell who the footsteps belonged to, but he opted to not say anything.

“Loki?” He heard his mother call, still choosing to not say anything. “Loki, I know you're up there.” She continued, and after Loki didn’t respond, he could hear her begin to climb the ladder.

Frigga made it in the treehouse, but Loki continued to pretend to read his book and ignore her, causing her to sigh. “Boy, I’m getting too old to be climbing up that ladder.”

She moved over and sat beside Loki, glancing over at the book in his hands. “What book are you reading?” She asked, and Loki finally glanced over at her. “Poetic Edda.” He replied, and Frigga nodded.

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, Loki still staring at the words on the page, before Frigga spoke again. “What’s got you upset?” She asked, and Loki just shrugged. “Darling, I’m your mother, I know you better than that.”

“Father was mad at something I didn’t have any control over.” Loki admitted, and Frigga took Loki’s hand in hers, looking him in the eyes.

“Would you like to talk to me about it?” She asked, and Loki shook his head. “That’s fine.” She said, rubbing the palms of his hand to try to comfort him. Loki used to love this when he was younger, and he still found some comfort in it.

“Your father is very stressed right now.” Frigga stated, and Loki looked up at her. “His council needs to make a big decision on a sensitive matter by the end of the week, but they seem to be split.”

Frigga frowned, adding, “Although, that doesn’t make it alright for him to pin any blame on you. I’ll talk to him.”

Loki smiled, leaning into his mother’s touch. “Thank you, Mother.” He said, and Frigga smiled back at him. “Your welcome, my dear.”

They sat in each others’ company for a good while, before Loki spoke. “You know, I am getting kind of hungry.” Frigga laughed, patting his head.

“Well then, I suppose we should be getting back home so I can make us something to eat.” She said, and Loki nodded. “I suppose.”

Loki crawled down the ladder first, followed by Frigga. “Watch out for the third step!” He called out, just as Frigga was about to step on it. Luckily, she heard him, and was able to redirect her step.

When she got on the ground, she sighed. “As I said, I’m too old for this stuff.” Loki raised his eyebrow, grinning. “You don’t look too old.”

Frigga chuckled, shaking her head. “You do know how to flatter me, my son. Perhaps I’ll have to make us some pastries along with our meal.” Loki grinned, nodding, and the pair started their walk back to the palace.

Tag List (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream

#loki #loki fluff #fanfic #mother frigga #momma frigga #loki friggason #i love loki #marvel #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

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