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#my heart is trembling
bizarrelittlemew · 1 month
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you mean just curl up into a ball and die? 😔
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perrywrites · 5 months
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Part 4 of murmuring u want them inside u with karasu, otoya and yukimiya?? (the trio💪)
LOVE UR WORKS❤️💋
Hope ur well (•̀ᴗ•́)و
Byebye!
The trio comin' in piping hot WHOOP
Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 5;
NSFW 
Includes; Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya
Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami)
The demand for Sae and Rin in the requests is CRAZYYY 👀 I see you guys, I hear y’all, I finally found the time (and inspo) to write, so here’s five of the remaining bllk crew 🤭🤭🤭 FYI Sae’s the roughest one to start with here SJGDJHSGSD the others are a bit milder/romantic
Sae: he raises an eyebrow the moment he catches your simmering gaze. You have an interesting way of causing him trouble. But nonetheless, he chooses to focus on his practice, effectively ignoring your amorous expression - he’s too good at playing aloof, but on the inside he’s less than calm; it messes with him more than you and even he himself realizes. But that aloof facade doesn’t falter even as he’s walking towards you during his break, expression as indifferent as always, though there’s a teasing note in his voice as he says, “You’re unusually brazen today, are you asking for more?” His question refers to how he had you last night, making you whimper beneath him as he pushed your head down into the mattress, fucking into you. Just referring to that would usually make you so flustered you’d immediately blush, avoiding his eyes as you half-heartedly scolded him - but right now… Instead of reacting shyly, you let out a deep romantic sigh, eyes hooded and dreamy as you murmur something about wanting him inside of you. Eyebrows shooting up, he stares at you for a moment for your bold and unabashed request, wondering for a quick moment if he misheard you. But your wanton gaze dispels that doubt instantly, and he scoffs at your shamelessness. ‘Seems like I broke your brain’ he wants to say, but the words don’t leave him, dying down in his throat as he stares at you for a moment longer, heat building up inside him as he catches the way your eyelashes flutter, and the way your pouty lips part. Oh, you’re definitely asking for more, alright. Asking for him to pin you down and shove his cock in deep, bite down on your shoulders to make you cry out as he roughly thrusts into you. He’ll keep pounding away into you, a bruising grip on your hips as he grunts in your ear, mocking you and asking you if this is what you wanted. All of your sounds, he’ll soak them in, tug on your hair to hear you yelp as he pulls you into a messy kiss - pulling apart only when he’s buried deep inside of you, hips stuttering as he releases and fills you up. His fantasy is broken when he realizes what kind of heated gaze he’s sending you - and no way in hell is going to be caught by someone with a half-decent camera looking at his girlfriend like he wants to bend her over - so he looks away and gulps down his water, wiping his mouth. “... If you want me that badly, then be a good girl and stop causing me trouble,” he says, without elucidating what he even meant by something as arbitrary as ‘good girl’ and causing him trouble - but maybe that’s the point. Because both of you know whether you’re ‘good’ or ‘bad’ he’s going to fuck you - the only difference being how much rougher he is when you’ve been bad. After that, practice doesn’t go as well for him as it should, to the point that the coach decides to dismiss him early (him, in particular), kindly patting him on the shoulder as he tells him to ‘relax’ and not ‘worry’ about the upcoming match. Classic Sae, he shoves his hand off, telling him to shut the fuck up with his assumptions, and makes his way over to the showerrooms. After that humiliating experience, don’t think you’re going to get away without some discipline.  
Rin: there is always a hint of pride blooming knowing you’re right there, watching him, supporting him, though he would never say it to you. He makes sure to not be distracted, but after every goal he still looks your way as you cheer loudly, calling his name with that kind of cheery glee that always makes his heart flutter - except this time you’re silent. It takes him a moment of sweeping his gaze over to find you for this reason, and when he finds you, his heart stops for another reason… What’s up with those eyes? Those dreamy, dazed eyes, face sat in your hands as you languidly watch him, were you even really there? Dammit, don’t just sit there like that, wanting him - but then what else were you supposed to do? It’s not like he wants you to stop… wanting him… or to go away… But still, dammit. This kind of frenzied panic only happens for a moment, though, before he sweeps his gaze away and goes back to practise like his heart isn’t thundering from your stupid audacity. Stupid, lukewarm idiot. When it’s his break and he’s walking over to you, there is a vexed crease between his eyebrows as he glares down at you - but it’s so obvious he’s anything but mad when the tips of his ears are burning up like that, his lips downturned in what can only be read as a flustered frown. “What the hell are you doing?” Stop looking like you want to be taken, dammit. You hum in response, a small, pining sound, soft like cotton and all things blissful. “I want you inside of me, Rin…” Pretty eyes widening and pupils dilating, his mouth parts open slightly in complete shock - you - you - what? What? It takes him a moment to regain himself, heart pulsing wildly right beneath his skin as he observes your dazed, adoring eyes as you look up at him, expression nothing but lovesick and yearnful, and fucking hell he loses his mind. You have no clue, do you? How much he dreams of you looking at him like that, like he’s your whole world, your entire universe, like you’re so taken in by him. It makes his heart constrict, antsy to do something - to you - because that’s the only thing that can calm this desperate need, dammit. He wants to give you the whole world, keep you trapped on his bed under his large frame as he makes love to you over and over again - until his name is the only thing you can cry out, sobbing, as he fills you up repeatedly, making you take him. He wants to see you ruined by him, all vulnerable and weak beneath him, helpless to his neverending affection. Oh, yeah, he’ll give it all to you, every piece of bliss possible. But… Not right now. Your timing is horrible. Beyond horrible. And the fact that he can’t fuck you right now pisses him off beyond anything, so as the shock leaves his expression, instead it morphs into a deep frown with an unforgettable blush. “... You better keep that energy by the time I’m done with practice, fucking freak.” Or else he’ll make you regret putting him through this dilemma right inbetween practice. Don’t play with him, dammit.
Karasu: he usually tells you to not bother trying to hide it, because he can always tell when you’re wanting him, yearning for him. But this time it seems like he has no need to tell you something like that; you’re making no attempt to hide your completely apparent and obvious neediness, glassy eyes showcasing your wanton stupor, and the way that you’re flushed… Yeah, he’s absolutely sure he knows exactly what’s going on in your mind. He pretends not to, though, as he continues on with practice - the way he can control his expressions and mannerisms down to the subtlest details is never not impressive. And he continues on with the whimsical charade as he saunters over to you, though he’s itching to tease you - nah, he’ll save it for later, when he can tease you all you he wants and then take his time having you… “Ya okay? Seems like ya have no energy, didn’t finish yer breakfast again, eh? I’ll take ya out for lunch later, how about it?” He plays oblivious, seemingly genuinely concerned, like he doesn’t know exactly what your deal is. That sentiment is immediately shattered into non-existence, and even he can’t control the way his eyes widen when you whisper that lewd sentence. Oh…? You want him inside, huh…? Need him that badly, hm? Expression falling under his control within a moment, he looks away from you for a moment as he chuckles to himself, but he can’t deny the shiver that had wrecked through him the moment your low seductive whisper had assailed his senses. “A little desperate there, aren’t ya?” You have no clue how good you sound, what you do to him when you talk in that breathy voice, do you? Oh god, it kills him. And now here he was, head full with lewd fantasies of how he was going to ruin you on his cock, make you cry out for him, turn your voice all hoarse, throat sore as you soar on the height of each prolonged orgasm he’ll put you through. You sound so good then, after all, the way your voice turns all sharp and whiny and blissful when he brings you to that euphoric high after teasing you for far too long. He loves the way your exhausted face melts into shaky satisfaction, especially when your trembling thighs jolt when he takes a few moments too long before pulling out, a soft overstimulated whimper leaving your lips. He won’t deny it, hearing that sweet sound leave your lips makes his cock twitch each time, makes him want to fuck into you again and again, if only to hear that whimper of yours over and over again. And it’s so unfortunate he can’t indulge in that desire right now - but Karasu is fully capable of being patient, very patient… Especially when he knows what kind of reward he’s going to take for himself at the end of this gruelling wait. He flicks your forehead. “... Well, since yer being so cute and eager, I won’t make ya wait too long,” he says, in a low, raspy tone, and he delights in the way you instantly react, shivering. That’s his girl.
Otoya: he has a sort of sixth sense when it comes to these kind of things, especially when it comes to you. Do you think he wouldn’t know what his cute girlfriend is thinking? He doesn’t have to look at you to know - he just does. So honestly, he’s not very surprised by your passionate gaze, eyes glassy and needy. That doesn’t mean he’s not delighting in your erotic expression, though, because oh god he’s enjoying this so much. He’s still walking over to you when he starts contemplating on bailing out on practice just for your sweet, sweet invitation. Pity, the only thing stopping him right now is your inevitable rejection, because you’re proper and controlled enough to suggest he remain in practice, he knows it. Soon, he’s next to you, sitting close to you, his thigh pressed right against yours as he keeps his eyes on you. “Yo, what’s up? You seem needy. Wanna get out of here?” He thought you’d fight him on this, insist he stay for practice, and he’ll have to sigh and accept being blue balled, drag his ass back to the field when all he really wants now is to sink deep into your plush walls. To his surprise, the look in your eyes doesn’t change, still heady and dark and wanting when you whisper what you do - and despite himself, his eyes widen for a second, his thigh twitching once. Outside of those two miniscule reactions, he doesn’t let anything else tell of his shock - and more importantly, the blood that just rushed down to his cock. Oh, you’ve effectively turned him on like a lightbulb. Because oh boy, if only you knew how badly he wants to rail you now for saying that lewd sentence. He wants to feel up your entire body, trail his hands all over and claim you, kissing you everywhere he can, drink in your mewls as his lips keep finding yours again and again. He wants to let loose on your body, take over and possess every inch, make your body sing with his touch, skin tingle with the ghost of his touch even after he’s done. And more than anything, he wants to pound into you, be inside you like you asked, his cock moving in and out of you faster and faster until he spills himself into you - yeah, he decides, you guys have been dating long enough for him to ditch the condoms (plural, because you don’t think he’ll go just once, do you?). He’ll go get you plan B afterwards, but for now, he has to spill his load inside of you, especially after you’ve said such a dirty thing to him. So that’s why, he’s getting up, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up as well. “You want me to be inside of you, hm? Okay, sure. But don’t complain when I finish inside of you.” 
Yukimiya: honestly, Yukimiya has no clue what kind of needy gaze you’re directing towards him, his entire focus is on soccer - he’s just elated and honoured to know you’re there watching him at all. This, obviously, changes when he walks over to you when it’s time for his break - immediately he can tell something is up with you… The way you’re cravingly looking at him, pupils dilated and hazy, makes him burn up to the tips of his ears, a very noticeable blush overtaking his face. He clears his throat as he comes up to you, wanting to say something about your… ardent state… but unable to, so after a moment he simply distracts himself by drinking his water, trying to ignore the eager appetite of your infatuated gaze. And within the span of a few moments, Yukimiya finds himself hunched over, violently choking. What? Did you really just say what he thinks you just did? Something like… like… that? However, as bluntly… lewd… as he found your words to be, he couldn’t help the sudden rush in his bloodstream, the way his heart pounds in his ears. The idea that you need him so intimately, that you said something like that to him, a dreamy tilt to your voice… It drives him crazy with an obsession to turn you submissive and pliant under his ministrations, to worship you and fill you up with exactly what you wished for. Languidly stretch you out with a slow passion, keenly watch your expressions thaw into pleasure and twist into need as you moan and whimper for more of him. And he’ll give you everything you’ll ask for, leisurely dragging his hips, trying to drag out this moment between the two of you for as long as possible, because gosh, he could just feel eternity at the ends of his fingertips right then and there. But alas, eternity is nothing if not humanity’s fantasy, and he’ll start speeding up as you start chanting his name. You’ll hold him close like a promise, and he’ll fall apart inside of you like a heathen turned believer, groaning your name softly as he finishes inside the warmth of your heaven. His throat still burns from all the coughing, and although you’re by his side, looking worried as you voice your concern, he can’t meet your eyes at all as he keeps turning away, unwilling and unable to make eye-contact. He can’t, not when his mind is still filled with such lewd fantasies of having you - it makes him feel like he’ll pounce if he turns and looks into your eyes as you look at him with genuine concern. So he mumbles something about going back to practice, jogging away from you, effectively escaping the situation. But the human mind is a tricky thing, and his proves to be a prison. A prison full of erotic visuals and thoughts about you. A horny jail, as you’d probably say, right? Did he use that one right…? He doesn’t know, but any attempts in distracting himself fail, and as his practice comes to an end, he comes to a clear conclusion; he needs to take you home and have you, right now. 
PHEW, I finished up five charas for this over two days… And with that, this series has officially come to an end as well! Kekeke! I hope you guys enjoyed this one as well! I certainly had a lot of fun with maaaaany of these the reactions are too funny 🤭🤭🤭
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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 8 months
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505 live at bbc studios, 2010 (x)
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THE WEBSITE JUST UPDATED.
There's subtle changes, but there are commands scattered all across Welcome Home, including the home page.
ohhhhhhh what the FUCK
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mistress-light · 16 days
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I didn't have a mother or a father that wanted me! Or loved me!
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thirdeyeblue · 1 year
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When your best friend is out there crushing it ♡
Doctor Who | S4E13 | Journey's End
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sentientsky · 5 months
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"I forgive you." It came out like a blood clot—like an artery dripping gore—like an oil spill. Crowley felt his shoulders rise, fall, fall, fall. The air between them hummed, the tension of six thousand years turning every atom electrified and silently screaming. Breath shuddered out of him, human and terrible and hollowing. He had never been more grateful for the swallowing darkness of his glasses, for the way they hid the centuries of pre-emptive grief and wicked terror. The air was suffocating, the once familiar bookshop turned catacomb.
And then, hating himself for it but seeing no other way forward, he spoke the words aloud. "Don't bother". And then he was out in the middle of Soho and the breeze was harsh against his too-warm skin. Stepping out into the sun felt like rising to the surface of some great ocean—the gasping, desperate feeling in his lungs, the sudden crash of noise. A woman across the street called for her wife. A car horn. A dog barking. Laughter, cruel and far-off. He pulled breath into lungs that didn't need it, winced as he felt slivers of cold drive into the soft flesh of his throat.
So that was it; five and a half million years of want and need and burning, aching somedays, cyphered pleas for "our side". All gone in the space between shaking half-breaths and a kiss still seared against his lips.
Fuck it.
He'd ruined it the first time, had forced them both to look directly into the sun, to face the thing they'd been dancing around for the better part of six millennia. He could do better—would do better. At a music café some years ago, a human had been playing the piano—something soft and slow. A jazz number, if the demon remembered correctly. But the remarkable thing wasn’t the song itself, but that they were playing it with their eyes closed. Aziraphale had pointed this fact out to Crowley, excitement lilting in his voice (even then, the sound had thrilled him, sent a stab of warmth through his heart). It was only after the final note reverberated through the room that the artist opened their eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of stage lights. Aziraphale, ever the music connoisseur, approached the musician. The pianist had explained that, for them, reading music never came easy. Rather, they learned by touch, by the way the keys felt on their fingertips. In fact, the only way they could play a song was with their eyes closed. If they watched their hands as they played or thought too hard about their next move, they got confused and tripped over the notes. Muscle memory, they’d said.  It was muscle memory—the galactic familiarity of finding the space between seconds and prying—that guided Crowley now. He hadn’t done it since Not-Armageddon, but it came easily to him just the same. Time, you see, operates kind of like sound, like music; it loops and sways and carries forward in waves. If you know where to look (as the demon did), you can disrupt the flow, send it back towards the shore. 
And this was what Crowley did now. Drawing his hands through the ripples of minutes and seconds and hours and millennia, time stilled around him. It was natural. Easy, like breathing or sleeping. Or loving Aziraphale.  Slowly, the world turned backwards; humans retreating from whence they came, cars driving in reverse, the wind blowing in the opposite direction. If Heaven had taken notice of their "half-a-miracle", Crowley expected them to be able to see this from every edge of the universe. He likely only had one shot at this.
The world aligned itself once more, and time returned to its regular, steady gait—a rubber band snapping back into place. Something hummed in Crowley’s chest. Something bright and burning and the shape of a neutron star.  Hands shaking, he reached for the handle of the bookshop and pushed. The bell above the door rang, clear and and too-loud in the morning air. Aziraphale whirled around, a trembling half-smile on his face. Oh. Oh, somebody, this was going to be harder than he thought. It felt like all the oxygen, all the courage, had been punched clear out of him "Crowley!" A beat, a shuddering breath. "Angel". He pressed his still-trembling hands into his pockets and strode forward. "Oh, Crowley, dear, I've been looking for you. I have excellent news." His stomach did a little flip, something deep within him growing hollow and fearful. "We have to talk," he managed to choke out around the heart still lodged in his throat. "Yes, I quite think we do. I have something to tell you." Aziraphale strode forward, all grins and beauty like a flickering star, all plasma and heat. He could practically feel the agitated warmth roll off of his angel. Crowley shivered. "I just met with the Meta—” "No. Wait," the demon held up a hand, pausing the rushing torrent of Aziraphale’s words. "Just let me say my thing, please." "My dear boy, just—oh, what is that lovely human expression—"
"Hold that thought," Crowley muttered. His eyes burned behind his glasses. Aziraphale looked pleasantly taken aback.
"Yes, how did you know? I—" "No." The angel's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No?" "No," he repeated, enunciating each letter with perfect clarity. He was going to do it right this time. He was going to keep him from leaving. He could be good. Right? "I’m gonna speak, and I want you to listen to me without interrupting, m'kay?" Words were building in the basin of his sternum now, pushing up on his airways. He was going to have to say it outright this time; no more waltzing around this frenzied galaxy of emotion. Willing his hands to steadiness, he pulled his glasses from his face, and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. Aziraphale's breath seemed to catch for a moment, meeting the ferocity of the demon's gaze head-on. A deer in headlights. And then, "Crowley, I really—" (Eons hurtled through his mind in a split second, the serrated knife's-edge of want like a being all its own. Aziraphale in the garden. Aziraphale in the tavern, on the cliffside, on the West End stage, in the Bentley, in the bookshop, in the very marrow of Crowley’s bones.) "I love you," he rasped, ichor writhing in his veins.
There, he'd said it., said it fully and completely, without so much as flinching. It was the same love he'd expressed for the past several thousand years in a million little, unspoken ways: an ox rib, a revolution, a church, a burning bookshop and the bottom of a glass and a lost best friend. A yellow Bentley, a lifetime of tethering his life to Aziraphale's, of trailing after him like a moth to flame—like a dog to its owner. "I love you," he pushed on. They were both looking directly into the sun again, Crowley urging them to stare straight into the heat of it all. The words were spilling out of him now, a heaving, thrashing current falling to the bookshop's hardwood floors. "I love you and you can't go to Heaven." Aziraphale froze, pupils blown wide and unblinking, for just a moment. Tension stretched out like a thread between them. And then he pulled in breath like a drowning man (who wasn't really a man at all), and tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes, and oh god, he'd made his angel cry. Fear and guilt and horror slammed into him at a million kilometers an hour and left him halfway between dizzy and nauseous. His fingers tensed at his side, desperate to do something, fix what he'd so obviously broken. Heaven would be on the front step any moment. It was too late, wasn't it? It was always too late. "Crowley—what?" Aziraphale breathed, mouth twisting into a brutal, terrible, heart-wrenching sob. Crowley ached, panic lancing through him like a knife. "I—I really, I can't. You could come with me." He stepped forward, moving to place his hands on the demon's shoulders. Crowley leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously. "Don't go," he croaked, tears beginning to prick his own eyes once again. This time he didn't reach for his glasses, didn't try to hide his fear. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And then Aziraphale could hate him and his desperate, hungry, reverent love in the aftermath. "Don't go where I can't follow. Please".
His angels blue-grey eyes searched his own, and the weight of his gaze was impossibly heavy, pressing down on his chest like a river-smoothed rock. "Crowley, please. I don't understand. The Metatron said—" His palms found the sides of Crowley's throat, thumbs resting gently on the side of his jaw. Crowley sucked in a breath. "Angel," The scent of earl grey—of old books and soft tartan chairs. Aziraphale's hands were shaking. "I know what the Metatron said," he intoned, soft as rainfall. "You can't go. It's not—they won't change. You're better than that." "But you could be an angel. With me," he murmured, soft thumbs running across sharp cheekbones. "Be my second-in-command." "Don't want to be. Want t' be an us," he felt tears—traitorous, burning tears tip over the edge of his lashes and fall against his face. "Crowley, darling, please." A beat. "I love you." The bottom of the world dropped out from under him in that moment. Aziraphale loved him. He loved him and he'd said it aloud and now it was out there in the world and it was as though every nerve on his body was on fire. His angel pushed on, "Truly, I love you. I need you with me. Please, come with me. We can do good, I know it." He could never say no when his angel asked something of him. Especially not when his kind, gentle hands were holding him like something good, something precious. Especially not when Aziraphale had just admitted to needing him, had injected the word with so much warmth he thought his all-too-human heart might beat clear out of his chest. But there was a first (technically, second) time for everything. He drew in a heavy breath, and tilted his head, breaking his angel's hold on him. Aziraphale's hands—now empty, still shook. He made a soft whimpering sound, and Crowley ached to kiss his fingertips, banish the fear. But instead, he looked up towards the ceiling, to a God who was not there—who maybe had never been there at all. He felt the Heavenly Host drawing near, a sense of hollow emptiness, the scent of absence. This was the time of last-ditch efforts, of holding his heart out and hoping Aziraphale might take it as it was, bruised spots and all. "I can't. I won't. I need to be here, on Earth, with you." "Crowley, please. I don't think you understand what I'm offering you," he huffed. A residual shard of anger stabbed at him then, and he turned his gaze sharply back to the angel before him. "Oh, I understand perfectly well, angel. I'm fairly certain I understand better than you do." Aziraphale's mouth drew into a thin line, tears welling fresh in his eyes again. And still, Crowley ached. A beat. Something in the angel shifted, then, turned on its edge—the walls beginning to go up again, and it was just like it had been not fifteen minutes ago. He was watching the same moment play out over and over again; some cyclical, torrential nightmare. "I would like you to come with me, but," Aziraphale paused, voice breaking in the middle. "But I'm leaving, with or without you." And there it was, like it was predestined. Despite the love, despite the want, despite every shared bottle passed between them, every half-accidental touch and glance and whispered word—despite the way he would’ve let Aziraphale run a sword through his chest... It wasn't enough. It was never enough. They were re-enacting their old magic trick, right there in the bookshop, this time with Crowley staring down the barrel, letting Aziraphale pull the trigger. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear. Aziraphale wasn't shooting past his ear. His bloody ribcage felt as though it might splinter apart. Wingbeats in the distance, a grief wide enough to drown the sea. Crowley reached down, pulled his sunglasses from their resting spot against his clavicle. And then the hunger in his eyes was once more hidden, and he was walking towards the door like a man headed to execution. "Crowley—" Aziraphale nearly keened, the wall crumbling for a split second. Without turning, Crowley said the only words he could think of. "I forgive you."
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clownprince · 7 months
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HELLO??? ARE YOU FFUCKING KIDDING ME...
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notetaeker · 1 year
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January 6, 2023 - Friday | 17/88 Winter
Today I spent hours sketching but couldn’t get myself to paint. After 4 PM I made up my mind and tackled an old painting I had abandoned and it came out really well: I’m so happy with it! From sketching, genshin-playing, podcast-listening, painting, checking up on one of my disciples, to suffering from sound pollution, and posting a reel of my painting - a 7/10 roller coaster of emotions day that ended on a good note, Alhamdulillah ✨😌
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gotticalavera · 1 month
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I don't know if it could be considered a preference that the lore I have for yaoi ZukAang and straight ZukAang has its fair share of angst and is a slow burn...
While the Yuri ZukAang are doing speedrun and are staying together without any political-social concern involved.
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duahauuoplanh · 10 months
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Things they do after the 'cut'
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deathsweetblossoms · 8 months
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Flower Face: an Elain Archeron playlist
This is my love letter to Elain Archeron, my interpretation of what she sounds like were she to exist as music. Consider this more as an experience and less a list of songs with lyrics that relate to Elain. @elainarcheronweek
My Elain is made up in part of deeply personal headcanons, plus versions of her in works by @bloomingdarkgarden (What Bloomed in the Dark Garden) and @thefangirlofhp (sillage). She is Danielle De Barbarac, a quiet girl with a rich internal world and a heart capable of feeling every emotion ten fold. She has one foot in The Dreaming world of the mystics, and one foot in her rapidly evolving life in Velaris. She wants to be seen for who she is and loved for who she is, gardening-scarred hands and all. She quietly yearns for someone she can't have, never once sharing her woes with any of her sisters. She brings things to life and values learning, creation, travel. This is a musical journey that represents my interpretation of Elain's soul, her internal world, her life in Velaris, her hopes for the future. (It is Elriel leaning, as a disclaimer, because ... I simply cannot help it.) I started off the journey with nature sounds, because Elain is so deeply tied to the land in my mind, and with lush, atmospheric music representing how she presents to the world. As the list goes on, we go deeper and more secrets are revealed until the songs become almost entirely instrumental (moody and brooding in nature to represent an emotional landscape). There are songs in different languages or without words entirely, to represent her displacement into an unfamiliar land, in a changed body, and the uprooting of her ingrained beliefs about that land and the creatures living there; about her integration into the Night Court and her insistence that she belongs. It ends with her prayer to The Mother.
SONGLIST
(Sometimes I will include my decisions for including certain pieces. Other times, I hope you can glean your own meaning <;3) PART I
(nature sounds)
I often imagine Elain waking up at sunrise, before the rest of the city, and just imbibing the land, the birds, the flowers. Noticing things other's don't notice. Seeking solace among nature.
James Newton Howard - A Hidden Life (instrumental)
Mariee Sioux - Wild Eyes tiny darling ghost holder you our soft spirit breather... you plant your burderns way deep down in
Wickerbird - Llewellyn sleep, interred within old Avalon
A song that evokes visions, dreams, prophecy, distant lands
AURORA - Under the Water under the water, we can't breathe we can't breathe under the water, we die hearts will dream again lungs will breathe in feet won't fail you now arms won't let you down
This song has been on my Elain playlist since the start. I always reminds me of her journey into the cauldron, the terror and grief that befell her afterward, and learning how to keep going despite everything.
Flower Face - Cornflower Blue i wanna lay on the kitchen floor with you i wanna do all the things that lovers do bruised on your face like a watercolour bloom moonlight paints your skin cornflower blue
Elain develops feelings for a quiet Shadowsinger...
Steven Price - Ophelia (instrumental) Jean Luc Lenoir - The Mermaid's Croon (instrumental)
"The quiet dreamer"
Ane Brun - Joga (live version) all that no one sees, you see what's inside of me every nerve that hurts, you heal deep inside of me you don't have to speak i feel emotional landscapes
This is a quintessential Elriel song for me, so perfectly capturing how I believe she feels about him (how they feel about each other, honestly).
AURORA - Exist for Love and then you take me in and everything in me begins to feel like I belong
Joe Hisaishi - Heartbroken Kiki (instrumental)
Rachel Portman - Three Women (instrumental)
Elain, Nuala, and Cerridwen's blossoming friendship. Them in the kitchen learning how to make bread, them teaching Elain how to slyfoot, them whispering secrets about lovers and childhood to each other.
PART II (Powers Awakening, Hidden Secrets of the Magic of Velaris, Witches and Mystics)
AURORA - The Forbidden Fruits of Eden (an interlude)
Powers brimming just below the surface, unseen, but felt by Elain.
(nature sounds)
Elain starts visiting the Sidra more and more as her powers develop stronger. I just imagine her sitting by the water, with a scarf around her head, and a small picnic basket, just enjoying the quiet and thinking about her visions and dreams.
Thomas Newman - Starlit (instrumental)
Night-blooming Jasmine, Elain discovers her place in the shadows of Velaris
Karliene - The Fields of Ard Skellig
Elain digs her fingers into the soil of Velaris and night-blooming flowers blossom all around her. She learns the secrets of the mystics and how to control her powers. Our Lady Kingslayer comes into her own and surprises everyone with her strength of spirit.
The Naked and the Famous - Teardrop night, night of matter black flowers blossom fearless on my breath Runah - Witch how she bathes in it she never had a lover that said her name before the way it drops from his lips it's like she's never heard her name sound like a song and she craves it oh she has woken the witch she's becoming Kati Ran - Vinda slowly the journey goes like the walk of an old man seeking in waves and seeking in sand hear the psalm of the wind, its being sung over the mountain and you, will you listen to the melody in the evening Mykur - Nordlys (instrumental) Thomas Newman - Luthien Tinuviel (instrumental) Agnes Obel - Rosian (instrumental) Helisir - Brisingamen (instrumental) Johannes Bornlof - Wolfpack (instrumental) Honey Gentry - Aphrodite Aphrodite, hear my pain I want to fall in love again Not in love with a man of this world Fall in love with life itself
Elain's prayer to the mother
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llondonfog · 5 months
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Have you heard of the song My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski? It's such a Lilia and Silver song I gotta recommend if you haven't heard!
Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? My baby, here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for her? Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love mine, all mine, all mine
you mean the mitski song that i imagine them waltzing to alone in that little forest cottage under the moonlight on silver's eighteenth birthday yes i know that song :))
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feelbetterlove-books · 2 months
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Live 'Be (Acoustic)' reaction:
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fightzaynfight · 1 year
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i saw the alternate angles of those beautiful post-win moments in the progressive match-flo segment last night, and knew i needed it in gif form immediately. much to think about.
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sweetvillainjude · 20 days
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Cardan’s fingers dig into my back. He’s trembling, and whether it is from ebbing magic or horror, I am not sure. But he holds me as though I am the only solid thing in the world.
– Chapter 27, The Queen of Nothing
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