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#the evolution of the twirl
nakmor-leigh · 10 months
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Okay SO like this Hank Mccoy design from the X-Men Evolution comics has got me actin UP FR 🥵🥴😩🔥
Like. . . Hey~ 👀
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molagboop · 2 years
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boy have i got a surprise for the lot of you
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jceh-art · 2 years
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look at my cool oc. their name is twirl. they're a hive signer alien. she's an engineer working on a spaceship. they're friends with flor. what more do you want, i fucking love her
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skenpiel · 2 years
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who was the first vampire and how did they turn vampire
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fireheartwraith · 2 months
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There are a lot of different traditions during Carnaval, but the allegoric cars players have been building are known to be part of the Parade of the Samba Schools, so I thought I'd explain how it works!
For starters, the Parade is a competition. Each team is called a samba school and they have their own flag and history. People can be really hard or die for their teams! Some are connected to soccer teams, like Gaviões da Fiel (the school) is connected to Corinthians. The two main parades (of this type of carnaval) happen in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro.
Each school has one hour to completely walk across the sambódromo, and in that hour they have to tell a story or message. That is one of the things they are judged on! The criteria are the drums, the samba-enredo (enredo literally means plot, but this is a genre of samba), the evolution (how the story develops), the harmony (is everyone singing together? Do the people in the parade know the lyrics?), the plot itself, the allegoric cars and accessories, the costumes, the opening act, and the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira.
The parade is divided into sections called alas, and each one of them functions as a chapter in the story being told and have their own separate choreography. The first one is the Comissão de Frente (the opening act). They set the tone for the rest of the team and the public, so it’s common to see celebrities here to get the audience hyped.
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Another crucial part is the drums. They are setting the beat that everyone is dancing to, so they shouldn’t make any mistakes. To both hype them and keep the pacing is the Rainha da Bateria (the Queen of the Drums). She’s a woman dancing samba in very minimal clothing but very heavy accessories. This is a very prestigious spot, the dream of any passista (this is what the samba dancers are called). Since they are the face of the parade, celebrities are sometimes given the position, and not all of them deserve it.
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There are other passistas atop the allegoric cars, but they are not the only type of dancers. There’s the Ala das Baianas (ala of the baiana women): older (usually black but not necessarily) women dancing in traditional clothing. Honestly one of my favorite parts of the parades.
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But my favorite part is the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira. There are several throughout the parade, but only the first one is graded. They are a couple: the man is the mestre-sala dancing around the porta-bandeira (literally 'flag carrier'), who dances with the school flag, and wears a big skirt, usually in the school colors. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, they dance doing twirls and it just looked like so much fun.
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There are other unnamed alas, of course, and the allegoric cars.
The samba schools are very tied to black history and black communities, so their stories are usually very powerful. Like the year they represented a former president as a blood sucking vampire with the presidential sash, or this year, where they showed a statue of a known slaver graffited and on fire. Seriously, some of these cars are insane, and most of them have moving parts while also being light enough to be pushed or motored across the sambódromo, but sturdy enough to support all the dancers on top of it. A true feat of engineering! See the size of the woman near the statue's feet compared to the whole thing?
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Most people celebrate carnaval by going to street parties called "bloco de carnaval" (basically a mini parade with live music), but these huge parade still get a big audience, despite streaming so late at night.
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Here's this year's presentation from Vai-Vai if you're curious to see everything in motion! Originally, I had put a link to Estácio de Sá's presentation, but some politicians want to apply sanctions to Vai-Vai because it represented cops as demons. A few days later, a white man attempted to kill a black man, and the black man was arrested despite witnesses telling the cops what really happened. When news broke out, they kept him in prison on claims of "resisting arrest." So, why is it wrong to say cops are devils?
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Anyways, the Vai-Vai presentation is about celebrating blackness and black creativity and resilience. Happy Carnaval! The winners this year were Mocidade Alegre in São Paulo and Unidos da Viradouro in Rio de Janeiro. You can look up their presentations if you want to.
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42. "I can't do this anymore." + Carmem (The Bear) + Smut :)
Denial.
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42. "I can't do this anymore."
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. always happy to write a carmen request. man, those biceps. i've been a jeremy girl since shameless and it's so wonderful to see his evolution <3
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - smut!! + cursing
Word Count - 775
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
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It isn't unusual for the two of you to be the only ones left in the restaurant.
Carmen's cleaning the kitchen, while you're mopping front of house. Between you, you'll be done in record time.
He emerges from the back to stand in the doorway. You can feel him staring at you from where he's leaning against the frame, eyes burning into the back of your body. You try not to turn around for as long as possible, but it's becoming unbearable.
"Quit staring, creep."
He chuckles, and the sound makes you smile.
"I'm not."
"So now you're a creep and a gaslighter?"
He laughs, and you can picture it perfectly, even with your back to him. Head thrown back, gorgeous neck exposed, chest vibrating.
You continue your mopping, very aware of the eyes on you. You finally turn around, and he's closer than you thought. He's silently moved to perch against a booth table, still looking at you intently. You meet his gaze, and shudder instinctively. There's a look in his eyes you've never seen before. He looks hungry.
His eyes are dark and reflective, boring into you intensely. His eyelids are hooded, body weirdly relaxed. He's borderline feral.
"So, I figured something out a minute ago."
"Oh yeah?" you question, propping your mop against a table. "And what's that, Carmen?"
"I can't do this anymore."
He stalks towards you, all cleaning abandoned.
"... Can't do what?" you whisper.
Carmen twirls a strand of your hair around his finger, moving so he's almost pressed to your front.
"I can't keep pretending that I don't wanna rip your clothes off everytime I look at you."
You're rendered speechless. You've had the most ridiculous crush on Carmen since you started waitressing at the restaurant, almost 2 years ago. You've had one too many dreams about him saying these exact words to you.
"So why don't you?"
With that, he lunges at you, ripping open your blouse and tearing his shirt over his head. He scrambles to unbutton your pants, slipping his hand into your underwear.
"Oh, fuck. Are you this wet from me just looking at you?"
If you weren't so turned on, you'd probably be embarrassed. You can't bring yourself to care.
Carmy grabs your thighs, and hoists you onto the table. You become suddenly aware of how wrong this is.
"Carmen, you can't fuck me on this table. Customers eat here."
"Watch me, honey. It's my restaurant. My fucking table."
He shoves his trousers down and pulls himself out his underwear. You take one look at him, and your mouth waters. He must see it on your face, because he chuckles.
"Not now, baby. Another time, okay?"
"Okay," you whine, breathy and impatient.
"You ready?" he asks, lining himself up between your legs.
You nod frantically, hands clawing at his shoulders.
"I need to hear you say it. Use your words, sweetheart."
"I'm ready, Carmy," you whinge. "Please, please. Fuck me. Now."
That was all the confirmation he needed. He slides home in one careful thrust, and both of you groan in unison.
"Oh, fuck. Better than I ever dreamed."
"You've dreamt about this?" you ask breathlessly.
"All. The. Damn. Time."
He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips, knocking you backwards on the table. He places one hand at the base of your throat as an anchor point, the other grabbing at your thigh to hitch it up.
He doesn't break eye contact once, his gaze full of lust and hunger. You've never seen this side of Carmy. Usually, he's a little avoidant, sometimes shy, always conscious of taking up too much space. But now, he's possessive. He's open, he's commanding, he's confident. He's so sexy.
"You're close, aren't you?" he teases.
You can only whine in response, grabbing at his forearms for leverage.
"It's okay, baby. Let go. Come for me. I want it. Give it to me, that's it. Atta girl. You got it."
He's rambling, babbling nonsense as you squeeze and clench around him. Your whole body tightens, back arching off the table, and it sends him over the edge. Both of your climaxes are white hot and electric, mixed groans reverberating around the restaurant.
You're panting, his chest heaving, breathing into each others mouths. After a minute, you speak.
"Carmy?" you ask.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Will you kiss me?"
"Of course I will," he grins. "I can't believe I waited this long."
He presses his lips to yours, tongue moving to tangle with your own. You've never been kissed like this. It's electric, it's instinctive, it's so right.
There's no point denying it any longer. Everything's fallen into place.
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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months
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A Final Wish.
Yan Geto x F Reader x Yan Gojo.
Synopsis: All you want is the best for your daughter.
Warnings: Yandere themes, past kidnapping, mentions of pregnancy/not SFW, takes place a year or so before JJK 0, very, very unhealthy relationships, major power imbalances, child abandonment, and violence.
Continuation of Banquet of Massacre.
Word Count: 1.5k.
*~*~*~*
It is in a wolf’s nature to be gluttonous, but so is that of a dog’s. 
Dogs come after wolves in the theory of evolution, and with dogs comes the unselfishness to be one. However, while dogs are not as gluttonous as wolves, they still are, in other ways. They seek constant attention, negative or otherwise, and will always have the personality of a human infant, regardless of how they are brought up by their superiors.
They express their emotions with the limited range of sounds they possess, sometimes timid and shrill, other times rough and menacing. They are dogs, experts in getting what they want in their way. Their primary pursuit is garnering the affection, care, and admiration they are unable to give themselves. Isn't it beautiful, people ask and say and wonder? They depend on those in their vicinity and refuse to release their grip, for if they do, they will stumble and remain fallen.
They do nothing, yet ask for everything, much like the wolves that came before them. 
You put in the effort, while they enjoy the benefits that rightfully belong to you, rather than to them. However, you permit this arrangement because they assist you in warding off other threats, coming to your aid when you summon them, and fulfilling other tasks that you are incapable of accomplishing alone.
So, who is the dog, who is the man, and who is the wolf? Is that really up to you to decide, or is that the world’s decision, or is the question at hand supposed to be answered by the one who promised you a new life away from the one you ran away from, Satoru Gojo?
He is the same one that holds your daughter’s hand so gently, while his infinity leads you to not be able to touch him at all.
“I have to take her to kindergarten now, Satoru.”
As you state the task at hand that you must do, if you ever want your daughter to have a good life, Satoru sighs and pushes up his sunglasses. “Rina is a good name for her, I would say.”
“That… isn’t the point.”
“It means joy, doesn’t it?”
Unaware of the situation unfolding, Rina wears a constant smile, her irises almost black and squinting with sheer joy. These eyes, when glanced at by you, inadvertently bring pain, as they vividly resemble Geto’s own.
“It’s her first day, Satoru. Please let me take her, you know she… doesn’t have any friends.”
“She has me!” Satoru bursts with joy, hoisting Rina high above him and twirling her around, their laughter filling the air. You dislike how paternal he acts towards her, yet appreciate it at the same time. Being a mother was never your desire, so maybe Satoru lightens that burden for you, even though his motives are self-serving. He had extended his offer to shelter both of you a few months after your daring escape, while you were cradling baby Rina in your arms, who had just been born in an old, desolate house on the fringes of Tokyo.
You had no desire for her to fall ill, and despite everything, you remained as her mother. You intended to fulfill the role of a good mother, even if it was imposed upon you unintentionally or not by Geto. She is under your care, correct? As her mother, you would go to any lengths to ensure that Geto never discovers her existence. Does she possess the ability to perceive curses? If she does, and Geto were to discover her, she would be confined to a luxurious but restrictive environment. However, if she lacks this ability and he still becomes aware... you are uncertain of the consequences she would face. All you are certain of is that it would be something detrimental, something deeply distressing.
You are both dressed in white fleece, while Satoru wears fully black as he always has. “Let her stay. I’ll hire a tutor for her.”
Can you refuse this? Satoru possesses the demeanor of a loyal canine, whereas Geto embodies the spirit of a cunning wolf. Yet both inflict harm upon you, though in distinct manners. However, they both cause you pain. Don't they both cause you pain? They will forever remain entwined with you and with each other, connected by an unbreakable crimson thread, as they both harm you and strive to control you.
So, just as many, many times before, you bite your tongue and nod. Satoru smiles, then takes Rina back inside, down the hall to the elevators, as you follow them. “Yay, Rina! No school for you!”
“Yay!”
He presses the up button, and you resist the urge to run with Rina in your arms.
*~*~*~*
“She’s my daughter, Satoru.”
“I still don’t know why you decided to keep that brat around.” You never are used to Satoru speaking too coldly, especially when it comes to talking about Rina, but then again it only happens behind closed doors, when Rina has been put to bed for the night and all the lights are turned off aside from the one beside Satoru’s side of the bed. “Sure, she may be your biological daughter, but she is still unwanted, isn’t she? You never wanted to be a mother, so why do you want her to be with you so badly, huh?”
“She can’t survive out there, Satoru. Geto may find her too and… who knows what will happen then?”
“Is that your problem?” He grins, and it makes you almost cry more than this argument you’re having does. “I’ll tell you, it isn’t. She takes up time, money, all sorts of resources, and for what? She does nothing for us, does nothing for you.”
“She’s a child.”
“An unwanted one.”
So, who determines the roles of the dog, the man, and the wolf? Is it your decision, the world's decision, or the responsibility of the one who promised you a fresh start away from your past, Satoru Gojo?
Is your daughter truly a burden? Will she never experience happiness? Will you never find contentment? Will that be due to Rina or because of Satoru?
It is instinctual for a wolf to be voracious, just as it is for a dog.
According to the theory of evolution, dogs follow after wolves, embodying selflessness. However, while dogs may not be as gluttonous as wolves in some aspects, they still possess certain tendencies. They constantly seek attention, whether positive or negative and maintain a childlike personality, regardless of their upbringing by their superiors.
They express their emotions through a limited range of sounds, sometimes timid and high-pitched, other times aggressive and intimidating. They are skilled at manipulating situations to get what they desire, like experts in their own unique way.
Rina's core objective revolves around seeking love, support, and admiration that she cannot provide for herself. It is a captivating notion that often prompts people to ponder and discuss. Rina relies heavily on those around her and is reluctant to let go, fearing that she will falter and stay down. In many ways, she resembles the wolves of old. 
The question arises in your mind: is Rina truly a wolf or merely a dog?
Is either answer just as bad as the other?
“Let me put it this way, sweetie.” Satoru leaned in closer then, and you could smell the artificial scent of cherry in his breath. “If she stays… I will make sure Suguru Geto’s offspring never has a good life. Out there, though… Perhaps if she works enough, she’ll deserve happiness. She’s a sinner’s child, a murderer’s child, and therefore doesn’t she deserve a similar fate? If Geto’s plan succeeded, you would be tied down with him forever, you know? If he finds out about her, he will attempt to do so again.”
Your heart sinks so low you could swear it is being dissolved by stomach acid. 
“She’ll hurt you more, too, if she stays, you know. Whether Suguru finds her or not. So, what do you say? Your choice.”
Is it though, you want to ask? But you can’t. You don’t want to go back on the streets, hiding at every corner.
So, once again, you bite your tongue, and like a good dog, obey.
*~*~*~*
You don’t remember what you said. You only remember what you did, how Rina reacted.
She was crying. Screaming and begging for you to not leave her, snot and tears running down her face along with the chilly midnight air and the rain. With every step she took, you took three back, and when she touched you you kept pushing her to the wall behind the restaurant complex in the center of Tokyo. Behind the whole ordeal, Satoru’s smirk never faded.
But this was for Rina’s own good, right? Geto won’t find out about her, if you never recognize her as your child, right? She’ll be happier, and you’ll be happier too, right?
Right?
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fatuismooches · 7 months
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Soft fragile reader + Dottore thoughts are the only thing that occupies my brain sometimes. Currently, I'm brainrotting over Dottore introducing you to dozens of modern things. We've talked about the Kamera but that's only one thing... mechanics! I don't know how much Teyvat has changed over literally hundreds of years but I assume it has to be a lot! And fragile reader would be disappointed they missed out on so many years worth of evolution from their coma... and also be very lost on how to navigate the world whenever they would be allowed to leave the lab. Like, everything is different. Your clothes from that era aren't fashionable anymore, reader (sorry ily.) Therefore the clones literally buy you a bunch of different things and you're just like... 😨 It's like a mini fashion show as these mass murderers are arguing over which color compliments you the best... (Zandik gives you a little spin and twirl as he compliments your style) Like... i know it sounds very simple but i like soft domestic Dottore + reader things 😔 Reader would definitely tailor their outfit similarly to their husband's to feel closer to him after so many years apart.
Ei was so happy by something like Dango Milk, I imagine fragile reader would be jumping for joy at the most simplest of things. You would overhear the Fatui soldiers/agents talking about things you've never ever heard about and then ask them for information, to which they obviously give you in the most respectful, monotone voice because of your husband's authority... but they're kind of confused by your practically sparkling expression. Every time you learn something new you immediately run to Zandik or a clone and start asking them for all the details! And I like to imagine you sitting on Zandik's lap as you try new delicious foods from the modern era... he really doesn't care much for food but how can he decline when you're feeding him a bite of everything? I bet reader would go bonkers if they found out that perhaps their favorite candy still exists, somehow even having new flavors! Or if their favorite book series survived, and then they'd be able to compare how writing styles and genres have changed... you rant to Zandik about them of course.
There are probably dozens of things that have changed over time, but I can't exactly think of any more that would be fluffy and cute right now. Will write more brainrot if I do 😭 Basically crazy mad scientist still making time for his darling fragile lover >> He grows to expect you sitting on his lap going on about a new thing you discovered existed now and then falling asleep frequently now.
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beatmyfeet · 8 months
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FLR: Led by Her, Flourishing Together
In the heart of Paris, nestled in the serene Marais district, Adèle ran a bookstore specializing in feminist literature. Every shelf brimmed with volumes on women's empowerment, feminine prowess, and the gender revolution. The place had become a sanctuary for many souls seeking answers and fresh perspectives.
On a crisp autumn day, as the wind playfully twirled the golden leaves outside, Lucas, a history professor, stepped into the store. Driven by curiosity, he sought resources for a new course he was designing on the evolution of gender roles across the ages.
As Lucas was skimming through a book, Adèle approached to suggest some of her favorite titles. A spirited conversation ensued. Adèle, with her profound knowledge of the subject, and Lucas, with his eager thirst for learning, found an innate harmony between them.
Their friendship swiftly blossomed into love. As they got to know one another, Lucas was taken by Adèle's strength and resolve. She, on the other hand, appreciated Lucas's willingness to question established norms and embrace a fresh outlook on life and love.
They naturally drifted into an FLR dynamic. Adèle, with her assertive nature and desire to lead, became the dominant figure in their relationship. Lucas, recognizing her strength and wisdom, was more than happy to follow, finding an unexpected freedom in this setup.
Led by her, their relationship flourished. They learned together, supported each other in their aspirations, and built a life rich in love and mutual understanding. Far from being confined by traditional roles, they found that true strength lies in adaptability, trust, and shared growth.
Over time, Adèle's bookstore not only remained a hub for literary discovery but also became a place where many couples sought insights and perspectives on FLR relationships. Adèle and Lucas, with their inspiring tale, became a beacon of a love that transcends norms, proving that when led by the heart, anything is possible.
In the vast landscape of human relationships, the FLR (Female-Led Relationship) stands out as a testament to the evolving nature of love, trust, and partnership. Rooted in the idea that the female partner takes the primary leadership role, an FLR challenges traditional gender roles, empowering women while creating a harmonious balance between partners. "Led by her, flourishing together" captures the essence of this dynamic, a phrase that celebrates mutual growth and interdependence.
Empowerment & Leadership
Traditionally, society has often viewed men as the default leaders, not only in the workplace but in the confines of the home as well. The emergence of the FLR, however, offers a refreshing shift. By consciously choosing to let the woman lead, couples are making a powerful statement. It's not about subverting the status quo for the sake of it, but recognizing that a woman's leadership can be just as valuable, strategic, and nurturing as that of a man's.
Trust & Vulnerability
For an FLR to thrive, an unparalleled degree of trust and vulnerability must exist. The male partner, stepping away from the expected role of leader, places his trust in the hands of his female counterpart. This surrender isn't a sign of weakness, but of strength. Recognizing that trust is a two-way street, the female partner must also understand the weight of her leadership and ensure that it's exercised with love, respect, and fairness.
Growth & Interdependence
"Flourishing together" isn’t just a hopeful ideal—it's a tangible outcome of many FLRs. With distinct roles and responsibilities, partners can focus on their strengths, which often leads to personal growth and a stronger relationship foundation. Instead of getting caught in power struggles, couples can channel their energies into mutual goals and shared dreams. The beauty of an FLR is that even though one partner leads, both individuals grow—personally, professionally, and romantically.
Conclusion
The FLR is more than just a relationship dynamic—it's a reflection of the changing tides in our understanding of gender, power, and love. It proves that leadership doesn't have a gender, and that by embracing new paradigms, we can find harmony and balance. "Led by her, flourishing together" isn't just a statement—it's a beacon for all couples looking for a roadmap to mutual respect and growth.
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alatismeni-theitsa · 11 months
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Ancient Greek and Roman music Masterpost
As our national epic, the Odyssey, did I'll start from the middle. Please listen to the sound of medieval Greek music and then come back. It's an exercise, I command you!
Middle Ages Greek music is speculated to be "slowed down ancient Greek music"! 😁 So, take notes on that!
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Christodoulos Halaris - Anthology of Byzantine Secular Music
(Christodoulos Halaris was a prominent Greek composer, researcher, and musicologist. He focused on secular Byzantine and traditional music, incorporating his extensive research into a solid and singular musical language.)
After your warm-up (and perhaps some confusion) let's get into what you came here to see.
What Ancient Greek and Roman Music Sounded Like - A Beginner's Introduction
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Α fantastic introduction by a composer, musician, and researcher who calls himself:
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OKAY, OKAY, HE IS FARYA FARAJI, YOU GOT ME.
So, this is going to be another excellent video where he spits facts. He gives a great impression of how ancient Greek and Roman music sounded like.
And no, they didn't sound like the watered-down (north)-eurocentric "ancient Greek music" on youtube videos you find. (who's surprised at this point, after all this Northwestern appropriation) Unless they are made by Farya Faraji because… the man knows his shit (and our shit 😂)
By the way, I called it "watered down", not because I believe western music is lame, but because the performers apply western rules to ancient Greek music, stripping it of all the Heterophonic complexity.
In the video above, you'll learn how the lyre should actually be played!!! And what instruments have been in continuous use in Greece for more than 2.000 years! And see all the ways our ancient and traditional music is more complex than Western music - such as Western music can be more complex than ours in other ways! (as also stated in the video)
And before you ask: Why does ancient Greek and Byzantine/traditional Greek music sound Oriental? Well, that's just your ear and biases and Hollywood stereotypes, my dear friend. See, these sounds are not (just) Oriental! They are originally Greek, too!
Many tunes and the way of singing the West associates today with the Middle East came from the Greek world (where these tunes are still in use, mind you) or other Mediterranean countries. That's not to say that Middle Eastern nations didn't have these scales and twirls for a long time - because they did. That's their ancient music, too.
Please see the video below to make more sense of my ramblings:
The Greco-Roman Influence on Middle-Eastern Music
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All of Farya's videos have their sources in the description so make sure to check them out!
Now you can better enjoy the Epitaph of Sekeilos you heard in the first Middle Ages video! You can also listen to another great version by Farya, where he uses the above ancient Greek principles he mentioned in his video. That's why his version actually feels fun to listen to, thank god! (Of course Chalaris also orchestrates the Epitaoh in an excellent way)
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Personal commentary: I am happy to share Farya's work online because he put into words why reconstructions of ancient Greek music online don't sound Greek at all. Greeks have a hard time relating to it because... that's not our folk music. They sound boring like Chopin playing piano when he was 3 years old. (But by now you know why! 😉)
Of course, ancient and traditional Greek music are not identical and no one expects them to be. But given our history, our music history, and cultural evolution, we know the sounds of our music - as all people can identify the music of their land and area. I am glad my gut feeling was right and the music wasn't actually that simple. With the complexity of our ancient chants and the plethora of instruments we had in antiquity, there was no excuse for our ancient melodies to be that simple.
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missredherring · 1 year
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Think I Could Take Him?
Jim Hopper x Plus Size Female Reader
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: flirting. Implied sex.
A/N: Look, your guess is as good as mine. This came out of nowhere. Short and quick, so I don't have time to think about it! S3 is the best Hopper evolution.
Same vibes as "Evening, Chief."
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You were waiting outside of work, tucked under the umbrella of light from a street lamp, when the bronco pulled up.
"Evening. What's a pretty thing like you doing out alone at night?" Hopper asked out the open window and looked you up and down. You were bundled up in a sweater and a jacket, but his eyes moved over you like they knew every curve underneath.
"I'm waiting for my boyfriend." You said, resisting the urge to twirl the long chain of your necklace around your fingers.
"Boyfriend, huh? Think I could take him?" He looked around as if someone else would be turning the corner any minute.
"I don't know. He's a tough guy."
You're tired and the cold was seeping in even with your layers, but you're drawn into his flirty game.
Taking the few steps to close the distance, you braced yourself against the driver side door, your forearm brushing his. Hopper's uniform was form fitting, accentuating the broad lines of his body when he stands, but when he sat down he looked like he's about to burst from the seams. He's self conscious about it, but you love it.
"Hm. I bet you could. You took him so well last night. And this morning," he said, matter of fact with the statement, but when he caught your gaze his eyes were dancing with mischief. "You wanna take him again tonight?" His tone smoothed out to coax and warm, just a shade of the filth he'd been pouring in your ear as he emptied himself into you earlier.
The memory made you shiver and you had to act like you're thinking it over.
"Maybe if he makes it worth my time after he showed up late." You match his tone, but the tap you give his arm was one of annoyance.
Hopper sucked his teeth and motioned for you to get in. You laughed, hearing him grumble about how the new hires wouldn't know what forms to fill out if they bit them on the ass.
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toiletwipes · 8 months
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investing dimes (for nobody but you) | ghostface!wilbur
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~3.6k words. / well uh. yeah it's actually what it says. GHOSTFACE! remind me to stop writing on my phone because I forget some important details all the time akfjsjfhd. ANYWAYS. [Killing people is a new pastime for him. He planned for his third victim to be extra special. Doesn't goes exactly to plan.]
Warning: talk of murder and gore. It's not too detailed but keep caution. And I wanna say this is heavily romanticized so. Keep it in mind. If someone is trying to kill you, run away not towards.
And also apologies: I forgot the blood and knife kink. Next part I'll add it in. ;-;
title inspired by Happy Together by Slothrust
×
It's warm, underneath the mask and the costume. Makes him sweat and his mouth dry but all he can focus on is your form, slouched over the kitchen table. Books and papers spread out over the table, with you writing over some with a loose grip and droopy eyes. Part of him wants to kiss the side of your head and take you to bed, his hands holding your knees and back while you tuck your face into his shoulder. He also wants to stick the knife he's twirling deep in your guts, twist it until you stop screaming and all you can do is cry and look at him. Look at him and die.
He waits till you look close to passing out, head slowly falling before snapping back up several times, waits till you sigh and continue the attempt at homework.
He dials the phone number. Watches as you startle completely awake, rummaging through the mess of books and assignments until you find the culprit, not even bothering to check the caller ID. And he hears your voice Crack a little in greeting, "he-" and he smiles a little when you yawn in the middle of your sentence, "Hello? Who's this?"
He doesn't know what to say, "sorry, I think I might have called the wrong number." He doesn't make the move to hang up though.
He hears and sees you hum and you look up to the ceiling, scratching at your forehead, "well, I hope you find who you're looking for." And you hang up the phone, sitting up in your seat. He brings the phone down from his ear only to re-dial, swallowing.
He gets to see your shoulders jerk back in surprise when the phone starts ringing again. He can't help the adrenaline building in his chest. He needs to chase you down, taunt you, make you scream his name, carve you as his. His third victim of the night.
"I think you got the wrong number again." You say, looking down at your homework, checking the phone number this time.
"I did, but I was hoping I could talk to you." The knife sits heavy in his grasp, he could almost feel the metal humming with excitement. Maybe that's just him.
"I wouldn't mind talking, I just got a lot of homework to do." You bite down on your bottom lip, scanning the papers. He could just barely make the cover of the book when you close it and make room for another. Biology.
"Maybe I could help." He has before, wasn't even too long ago. You struggled often with the terms, and that'll fuck you up in the long-run.
"I'm not sure that you could, you can't even see what I'm working on." You've abandoned the books and papers now, leaning against the back of your seat. Staring at the ceiling.
"If you'd talk me through it, I could."
"So generous, what, you're gonna tell me how to solve for x?" The way you smile while covering half of your face makes his heart beat faster. He can't wait much longer. He has to have you soon.
"Solving for x isn't going to help you with your evolution paper." Your smile drops, back straightens up while you look around. It's dark outside, so dark, you'd never see him but you look right at him. Even if unknowing, you did and his heart skips a beat. He wants to hear your heart skip like his too. Beating fast and full of fear.
"I'm- I'm not working on an evolution paper- who is this?" He can't help the small laugh that bubbles out of him, he feels high. High on a power trip, high on the genuine fear building inside of you.
"Except you are, have three books open and everything. Think you need help more than I do."
"This isn't funny." Your face scrunched up, he could guess fear or maybe confusion. Frustration.
"I never said it was." He moves out of his spot from the window, making his way to the back of the house. The thing about you is that as a college student, somehow you're the one at home while your parents are out, having fun. If you'd only gone with them.
He makes it to the back door where he can see a light turned on in a bedroom window, opened for the breeze to come in. He smiles to himself. "I just wanted to talk." His eyes glance to the glass door, seeing your figure hunch over the table, arm wrapped around your torso.
"About what?" You ask and he sighs this time.
"Nothing in particular, just wanted to talk." He ends up biting on the blunt part of the knife, hauling himself up to the window by the bricks and the chair he found conveniently placed there. When he makes it into the bedroom, he could see this is definitely yours. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"I-" he could hear you scoff from the phone and downstairs, "yes, actually I do." He moves from your bedroom to what he assumed was your parents.
"Then why don't you have any pictures of him in your room?" He could hear the sharp intake of air, could hear the way you haul yourself out of the chair.
"I'm calling the cops."
"You don't want to do that." He warns, moving around the room and tracing the decor with the tip of his knife.
"Why not?" He could hear your voice break a little and he's not ashamed of the way his cock twitched in his pants. The whole thing made him want to hang up and just chase you down, pin you to the ground and- and-
He could already see it, red spilling out of you and staining the floorboards or the carpet. Your mouth gaping open in a permanent scream. He felt like he could come in his pants right now.
"Would hate to see your parents' guts all over the kitchen. Weren't they getting home in an hour?"
There's silence over the phone.
And when you speak, your voice is small, trembling, "what do you want from me?"
"I just want to talk to you."
For the most part, that is true. He's always wanted to talk to you. Listen to you more, hear what kind of sounds you'd make. How you'd sound writhing beneath him. Saying his name. He wants to hear you. Feel you with his bare hands. You were supposed to be the first victim, actually. But then the big, frat party happened and you held his arm while you kissed his cheek. Thanking him for watching your drink.
"And you can't talk to me, face to face?" You tried to sound tough. He can hear it, the way you pulled every ounce of strength to talk as if this wasn't the scariest thing happening to you as of yet.
It's cute.
"You want to see me?" He asks, flipping the knife in his hand.
"I want to know who I'm talking to." He clicked his tongue and then peeked out of the room, you still haven't checked the upstairs.
"Go to your room then, I'm still looking for that boyfriend you claim to have."
He hangs up the phone this time, shoving it into his pocket beneath the long fabric. You won't find him there, and he wishes he could hear your heart pound inside of your chest, beating so hard because he lied. He could be anywhere in the house and you have no way of knowing. He licks his lips. Is this how a god feels?
He hears each step you take, hears you falter as you reach the door. If he remembered right, the door had been closed before he left. But then he hears the door closing, without any of the footsteps going inside. Seems like you didn't want to see him at all.
He moves quickly then, out of the bedroom where he sees your back turned towards him. Yet, he sees the bumps rising on your skin, sees the hair rising up. Even your body knows how much danger you're in. His little prey to catch. His mouth salivates faster.
You don't even get to turn around fully, fingers already reaching to call the cops when he snatches the phone out. Your surprised gasp turns into a scream when he throws it behind him, brandishing the knife in its place. You don't hesitate to run towards the stairs. He gives you a split-second before he follows after, already feeling the need to sink his knife into your skin, catching your mouth in a gasp. Make you say his name before you die.
He calls your name in a song, singing for you to turn around while you trip on the stairs. You barely make it to your feet in time when he reaches the bottom, his gloved hand barely grazes the skin on your arm. It sparks something inside of him to move faster, running after you. Though it only does so much until you hit the lights, ducking around the corner and flat out disappearing on him. If he remembers right, after this hallway, it's a straight shot to the kitchen and backyard. He smiles under the mask.
"Listen, if you want me to leave you alone, you'll have to talk to me. But I get it, you don't love your parents enough, would rather let them take the fall-" and he hears a grunt, moving forward enough to miss a whole chair. His heart beats faster. You tried to hit him with a chair?
"Leave my parents alone." You hissed, backing away from the now broken chair. Your fists are closed and leaning on either side of the walls. You're already tired. Perfect.
He doesn't say anything, looking from the pile of wood and nails and fabric, to you. He pushes the wood to the side slowly, making a show of how easy it is for him to step over the mess. Watching as you backed away and backed up till you darted for the stairs again. He runs after you, feeling the burn in his lungs and his legs but it's addicting, these feelings. He can't ever get enough.
He reaches for your ankle, finding purchase to pull you down but then you just kick him away, scrambling up the steps. He makes it to the landing, just in time to see you enter your room, striding over to hold the door open when you try to lock it. Trying to run past him, he only catches you, shoving you back. Your legs hit the desk and you can only gasp whenever he has you pinned against your desk, pressing himself fully against you. The tip of his knife just barely touches the skin of your collarbone but it's all the same. All it takes is a second and he can have you bleeding out and dead within the hour.
The both of you breathe heavy, with him holding the back of your head with one hand and the knife in the other. He can feel the burning touch of your fingers latched onto his arm. Just like that night at the party.
In the split second that he thought he would be spilling your blood, he's gasping for air. "Got you." And you swallow.
"Are you gonna kill me?" He can see the tears pooling in your eyes, glittering in the dark as you ask him. To be honest, he did. He wanted to. There was something else that he wanted to do right now.
"Got something better in mind?" He asks, ignoring the very temptations that brought him to this moment.
Your lip trembles, your head moving in his hand as you nod. The tip of your tongue reaches out to wet your mouth and he can't help the trance it puts him in. Call him weak, he doesn't care. There's just about a thousand other ways, thousand other things on his mind.
"Are you going to call the cops?" You shake your head no. He chews on the inside of his cheek, looking through the mask and at you, so quiet, so patient and ready for whatever he had to say. He makes up his mind. "Keep your eyes closed."
Your eyes don't close immediately, but after looking him in the eyes and despite finding nothing, your eyes flutter shut and he could still tell your eyes were darting from side to side. And for a moment, he only admires. How wet your cheeks are with tears, how shiny and pretty they look. How your skin might look so beautiful with a few lines carved in. He breathes in. He'll be here all night. But like he said, your parents come home soon. He doesn't have the time he thought he had.
He slides the mask off, the air much cooler now that it wasn't so trapped under there. He leans in, pressing his hips closer to yours and he groans at the pressure, his nose tracing the skin of your throat. His tongue darting out and tracing the lines there, tasting the sweat he finds. He hums when he hears you gasp at the touch. His eyes are wide open, and he can't help it, the way his hips roll into yours and your fingers drift from his arms to his shoulders, the nails digging into the fabric.
He can't help himself, chasing the pleasure, chasing you. He leaves plenty of hickeys, sucking them into your skin, leaving as much claim he can without yet fucking his cum into you.
He trails his tongue from your exposed collarbone to your throat, soaking up the shudder you couldn't hold back. With him pressing a kiss until he licks over your jaw, he reaches for your mouth and finds you eager to kiss him back, mouths sliding against each other. He swallows the noises you leave out, unsure if you meant for him to hear or anything, but all the same, it makes his cock twitch while it's pressed against your lower half.
He reaches closer and licks into your mouth, itching to get even closer till he can only peel back your skin and crawl inside, till the both of you blend as one and the separation alone would kill you both. He doesn't know this feeling as well. He wants to know more. He wants to keep kissing you.
He pulls away, though, and he finds it surprising he enjoys the aftermath, the way your head is completely resting in his hand and your eyes stare at him, half-lidded. Panting.
"You were supposed to keep your eyes closed," he mumbles, taking a free hand to swipe the drying tears away from your face. "Can't seem to fucking listen, can you?" It's no use, you already saw his face. However, he can't help but pinch your cheeks between two of his fingers, watching as you let him.
"Are you going to kill me?" The repeated question only solidified the answer in his head.
"Depends, how much do you want to live?" And with that, you surged forward, sitting up on the desk and lifting your shirt off your torso, tugging on his costume. It's a tussle of clothes coming off and occasionally you leaned forward to steady yourself, kissing him with a newfound urgency. As if you'd die if you stopped.
Admittedly, he doesn't think he'd kill you now. At least not tonight. He didn't say that though.
While you wrap your arm around his neck, he doesn't notice when your cold fingers slip down his pants until the jarring touch grazes his cock. One of his hands shoots straight to your wrists, his mouth dropping into a moan, singing your praises as you kiss him with more fervor. He doesn't think it could get better until you whisper for him to go sit on your bed.
With his legs spread, the costume gone and his eyes staring at you, you step around the discarded clothing, keeping your stare leveled and pointed even when you kneel before him, unzipping his jeans.
"Have you done this before?" He can't help but ask, wondering how many guys have sat in his spot on your bed with their hickeys dotting your skin.
"Wanna be specific?" You ask, and with more care he'd ever give himself, your hands wrap around his shaft and he can't help the hiss as you lean over to drag your tongue over the head.
"Am I going to be your first?" He grits out, hand reaching out to hold your wrist before you could swallow him down.
You blink at him, then a slight tick upwards from your lips. "Am I yours?" And before he could process that bombshell, you shake his hand off, sliding him into your mouth and he could- he could die.
The warmth of your mouth was almost too- too much. Your tongue bumping alongside the head of his cock as you bobbed your head made him bite his tongue, groaning. But he was hopeless whenever you started to swallow him down. He tried to hold tight on your bed-frame, the sheets anything but his hips still jerked up. Choking you, and making you slide off of him with a cough. "A little warning, next time." And without much else to say, your mouth enveloped him again. He wasn't going to last much longer.
And before he could come, he made you pull off, pulled you up by the throat to make you stand and kissed you, and could just barely taste himself. Kissed you and kissed you until you had to pull away.
"Before we start, where am I coming?" He held onto your chin, leaning close enough to where he could breathe the air you were. Could almost taste your lips again if he twitched.
"Where do you want to?" And just like that, he was grinning and pulling you back to the bed, pressing you into it. Pressed his hands on either side of your head and kissed you deep, kissed you until he couldn't breathe properly. Till he had to breathe through his nose and fumble his way between the two of you.
The gasp he caught in his mouth mirrored yours, the feeling indescribable. Couldn't help the way he took your hand and laced your fingers together, rocking into you as you cried from the intrusion. "I'll make it worth it." He whispered, taking the back of your thighs and lifting them a little more, finding more room to thrust and the way your head tilted back, leaving room to crane his neck, kiss the skin by your ears and whisper filth, sing your praises.
Moment by moment that he was inside of you, he couldn't help but want this all the time, hoping there wasn't a day in his lifetime that there couldn't be this. Where he couldn't have this with you. Hoped and wished he could have you.
Wasn't that the idea in the first place? To make you his?
And when his high neared closer and closer, he tried to help you as much as he could, reaching a hand between you two and listened to the way you sang for him. Until you came first, your walls clenched down around him and caused spots in his vision. He quickly followed suit, pulling out in time to cover your stomach in his cum.
It's silent after, mostly panting between the both of you. He catches you off guard, leaning back to lap at your stomach, leaving it clean and keeping eye contact while he moves up to give you a kiss. He pulls away, listening to you breathe and weakly clinging to him when he moves to get up. "We need to talk about-" he cuts you off with one more chaste kiss, tonight, oh he's more than aware of that. He's more than aware of what happened tonight. He wonders if you'd be up to recreate it in the future. He wasn't planning to leave you alive but he's glad he is now.
"I'll call you." He moves to leave when you reach out, grabbing him by the throat.
"If you call me later without cleaning up the chair downstairs, I will kill you." And to add salt to injury, you look him over and smile. He doesn't mind the kiss on the cheek before you push him off the bed. "Parents will be home in twenty, you better start now."
You don't say anything when he steals one more kiss from you.
He walks out of the house nineteen minutes later, downstairs free from any indication that he tried to kill one of the residents. The costume is stuffed in a grocery bag and one hickey freshly bitten behind his ear. And when he sniffs his shirt, it almost smells like you. He smiles.
The breeze ruffles his shirt and hair, chilling him instantly. Someone runs right into him, hardly apologizing and he recognizes the asshole.
Glancing to the bag in his hand, he turned down the corner of an apartment building, walking all the way down till he reached an opening point, right where the asshole lives. The smile on his face twitches into a grin. The night is still alive and he could still take another prick out.
(You come to a much earlier realization that he forgot the knife on your desk than he does, when he realizes he has to improvise in the moment.)
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mimisempai · 3 months
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WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @insert-witty-user-name-here - thank you !
This is an excerpt from the first chapter of my big Good Omens project for this year.
Takes place just after their first meeting… The beginning of the events that will lead to Crowley's downfall (and someway Aziraphale's as well)…
Despite what Aziraphale had told him, the red-haired angel continued to oversee the creation of his stars and the evolution of his nebula. Seeing this, Aziraphale couldn't help but stop often just to watch him. The other angel awakened new emotions in Aziraphale that he had never felt before, and the angel found himself drawn to the star maker, fascinated by the passion he put into his creation. Captivated by the joy the other angel radiated. It was the first time Aziraphale had ever met an angel like him. Just as his stars had suddenly lit up the dark sky, the red-haired angel had shed a new light on Aziraphale's existence. However, aware that he had been the one to slightly tarnish that light by announcing the limited lifespan of his creations, Aziraphale no longer dared to approach him, contenting himself with watching the other angel from a distance. He could see him twirling, giving birth to stars at his fingertips or conversing with them, always moving with grace, his red hair following his dance, just like at this very moment. "Aziraphale." The call of his name startled him as the red-haired angel turned to him and continued, "I know you're watching me."
Tagging whoever want to do it ^^
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hajimakitten · 2 days
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𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀. | OT7 BTS reverse harem
author's notes: hey, guys! it's been a long time since i wrote something on here, so i'm super excited to get a full story going. i have to say that i'm ready to see what happens between ryley and bts. who do you think is going to try their hardest to make things work first?
Chapters: 1 | 2
The Return of Bangtan | Chapter One
Under the neon glow of Seoul's cityscape, the air was buzzing with an electric anticipation that could only mean one thing: BTS was back. After the members had dutifully served their time in the military, the city was ripe with chatter and speculation about their grand return to the stage. In a sprawling dance studio tucked away in the great HYBE building, seven silhouettes moved with a kinetic energy that belied their time away from the spotlight. Beads of sweat glistened on their foreheads as they ran through the choreography for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. The mirrored walls reflected their precise movements, a symphony of popping joints and sharp intakes of breath; they were the epitome of synchrony. "Okay, let's take five," Namjoon called out, his voice a mixture of authority and warmth. The leader of the group always knew just how to tread the line between discipline and comfort. The members collapsed onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Jin, ever the oldest and self-proclaimed 'Worldwide Handsome', sprawled out dramatically, claiming he was too old for such intense practice sessions. Taehyung laughed, nudging Jin with his foot, while Jimin playfully mimicked Jin's dramatics, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the group. Yoongi, eyes closed, was lost in the music playing in his earbuds, tapping out a beat on his knee that was probably meant for their next hit song. Hoseok, the group's sunshine, handed out bottles of water with a bright smile, while Jungkook flexed his muscles and complained about how the military had made him too buff for some of his older clothes. In the midst of all this, their fearless leader stood by the windows, peering out into the city. "We've got to make this comeback concert the best one yet," he mused. "It's not just about the music; it's about the message. It's about the connection." They all knew the weight of his words. This wasn't just another concert; it was a reunion with their ARMY, a testament to their growth, and a declaration that they were still here, still strong. As the evening waned, the group rehearsed their vocals, their voices harmonizing in a way that felt like coming home. The new single was a bold mix of genres, a testament to their evolution as artists and individuals. It was a track that promised to get their fans' hearts racing. The days flew by, a blur of rehearsals, wardrobe fittings, and press interviews. Before they knew it, the night of the comeback concert had arrived. The air backstage was a cocktail of nerves and excitement. The group huddled together, their hands stacked in the middle of the circle. "Bangtan! Bangtan! Bang-bang-tan!" they chanted, their rallying cry since their debut days, a reminder of the journey they had embarked on together.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ryley could hardly contain her excitement as she rifled through her closet, searching for the perfect outfit to wear to the BTS concert. Samantha, her best friend and partner in all things Bangtan, sat on the bed behind her, giggling at Ryley's frenzied energy. "Ryley, calm down! You're going to have a blast no matter what you wear," Samantha teased, tossing a pillow at her friend. "I know, I know," Ryley said, trying to rein in her enthusiasm. "But this is BTS we're talking about! I have to look perfect!" After what felt like hours of deliberation and outfit changes, Ryley finally settled on a trendy ensemble that she hoped would catch the eye of her bias, Namjoon. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. As they made their way to the concert venue, Ryley couldn't stop jokingly talking about how she and BTS were soulmates. Samantha rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at her friend's infectious excitement. "You know, Ry, I think you might be taking things a bit too far," Samantha joked. Ryley shrugged, undeterred. "I just really feel like I'm meant to be here. Y'know?" Samantha chuckled. "Sure, sure. Just don't faint when you lock eyes with Namjoon, okay?" Ryley playfully nudged her friend as they joined the throngs of fans streaming into the concert venue. The energy was electric, and Ryley felt her heart race with anticipation. As the night progressed and BTS took the stage, Ryley got lucky with a space close to the stage and managed to lock eyes with Namjoon, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. She could see the intensity in his gaze, the passion in his performance, and she found herself captivated by the depth of his presence. But as much as she felt drawn to him, she couldn't quite grasp the meaning of it all. Was this what soulmates were supposed to feel like? Or was it just the magic of being in the presence of her favorite idol? Lost in a whirlwind of emotions and music, Ryley danced and sang along with the rest of the crowd, feeling like she was part of something bigger than herself. And as the concert came to a close, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this connection with Namjoon than she had ever imagined.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The concert was a whirlwind of pyrotechnics, heart-stopping dance breaks, and soulful ballads that left the crowd screaming for more. The energy in the stadium was palpable, a living, breathing entity that fed the members' performance. It was during their encore, the stage awash with soft purple light, that Namjoon's gaze drifted over the sea of Army Bombs. And there, in the crowd, his eyes landed on Ryley. She wasn't particularly different from the rest at first glance, her hair a cascade of waves, her hands up in the air, moving to the rhythm of the music. But there was something about her, an inexplicable pull that had him pausing mid-verse. Jin, noticing the hiccup, followed Namjoon's gaze and nudged Yoongi, pointing subtly. One by one, each member's attention was drawn to Ryley, and with each pair of eyes that found her, the same unspoken thought reverberated through their minds: 'Soulmate.' The music swelled around them, but in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the connection that crackled like static in the space between the stage and the crowd. She was just another face in a sea of thousands, but to BTS, she was a beacon, shining with a light that seemed to whisper of destiny. There was something about her, a feeling that she was meant to be part of their journey, a piece of a puzzle they didn't know was missing.
As the final notes of the song rang out and the stadium erupted in applause, they exchanged looks, each member's expression a mix of awe and confusion. "Did you all—" Jin began backstage, only to be met with a collective nod. "Yeah, we did," Yoongi confirmed, the ever-stoic rapper showing a rare flicker of curiosity. "Guys, we can't just all have a soulmate in the crowd," Hoseok laughed, trying to dispel the tension, even as his heart raced with the same bewildering emotion. Jimin simply smiled, a quiet acknowledgment of the shared experience, while Taehyung mused aloud, "But what if we do?" Jungkook, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in, "We'll probably never see her again, so let's not get carried away." Yet, as they left the stage, the image of Ryley lingered, a mysterious beacon in the night that refused to fade away. The members of BTS were no strangers to strange occurrences—after all, their entire career had been a series of serendipitous events—but this felt different.
This felt personal.
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teecupangel · 10 months
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Ok but.... Pokemon. What if pokemons were real and everyone would have they own team (maybe not 6, but 2/3). I MEAN GHOST TYPE WOULD BE SO GOOD. Also i cannot unsee at least one assassin having Nickit! It's pokedex entry has written that they are very silent and It erases they own tracks with swipes of its tail. THAT IS STEALTH. Also thievul can marks they targets with scent that help them stalks it. Like the bird in newer games. (Sorry for my english!)
(Your English is perfectly understandable :))
I am totally unqualified to make Pokemon teams for AC characters as I have only finished one Pokemon game: Red. I am soooo unfamiliar with all the Pokemons (hell, I don’t even know what gen we are now???). I mean, I played Black, X, and Let’s Go Eevee but I never finished them. XD
So all I can offer you is this:
Desmond gets booted into Detective Pikachu AU idea
And these unorganized notes:
Whatever Pokemons Desmond gets, he must have an Eevee that does not evolve at all. This is to represent his endless possibility. The only possible Eevee evolution I think we should allow is Sylveon because we all know he’s going to spoil that Eevee. Two other possible Pokemons he could have are a CastForm that forever stays sunny whenever near Desmond (and is really more like a pet and doesn’t go to battle) or a Solgaleo. Just… give him a sun-themed Pokemon for the irony.
Going with the Eevee idea, his ancestors all have one specific Eevee evolution. Edward would have a Vaporeon, of course. Altaïr would either have Espeon (a reference to the psychic-like powers of the Apple) or a Jolteon (pokemon.com has Jolteon as the fatest of the Eevee evolutions). Ratonhnhaké:ton would have Leafeon or Jolteon if Altaïr has Espeon. Ezio would have Flareon (because I am mean and making this a Cappadocia reference, sorry Ezio). Haytham would have a Glaceon or an Umbreon. (Or, if we’re killing off Edward anyway, give Haytham Edward’s Vaporeon)
Altaïr would definitely be the cover-all basis type of trainer so, yeah, he’d have 6 Pokemons of various types (some even dual types).
Considering Nickit’s habit of stealing, I can see Edward or Ezio having a Nickit.
Honestly, all of them having a Thievul might make sense. Like they’re an unknown shadowy organization that’s known for (1) wearing hoods, (2) having Thievul and some kind of (3) Ghost-type Pokemon on their team.
I think Mary should have a Gardevoir and that Gardevoir stays with Edward after her death (I mean, if Mary dies in this one. I’m not saying we should kill Mary, just saying…)
Evie and Jacob having Nidoqueen and Nidoking would be funny. Like… their father gave them the Nidorans as their starter Pokemons. Even funnier is if Evie has the Nidoking while Jacob has the Nidoqueen. Or, if you want them to have newer Pokemons, they both received a Charcadet when they were young and Jacob’s evolved to Armarouge while Evie’s evolved to Ceruledge. Just, they should have one Pokemon that’s like different evolutions of the same Pokemon (or opposite of the other’s Pokemon).
I think Shay should have a Froslass as a reference to how Rogue lets you travel to icy parts and how the last parts are set in an icy location (not counting France).
I can’t explain why but I think Arno should have a Greninja and they’d be a tag-team.
Of course, Eivor gets a Corviknight.
I honestly like the idea that Desmond, Altaïr, Ezio, and Ratonhnhaké:ton all have an Alcremie because someone got them to twirl around and strike a pose to evolve their Milcery… who records the entire thing. (I’m betting it’s Edward. It has to be Edward)
Minerva appears as a Gothitelle. Hell, she could be pretending to be Desmond’s Gothitelle. Idk, Gothitelle can predict the future (or just the lifespan of the trainer?), it sounds right that Minerva is Gothitelle or something.
I have this conundrum. I kinda like the idea of Altaïr, Ezio, and Ratonhnhaké:ton having distinct Pokemons related to one another. Now, my first thought would be they would each have Kanto starter Pokemons to show how they’re the first main characters of Assassin’s Creed. Or, you know, they would have the legendary birds of Gen 1 instead to show their legendary status. But, at that point, I thought, why not just give them the Raikou, Entei, and Suicune setup from the Detective Pikachu AU? At some point, my brain goes why don’t they just have a Deoxys each with Desmond having a normal form, Altaïr getting the speed form, Ezio getting the defense form and Ratonhnhaké:ton getting the attack form?
And that’s when my brain gave up and went “Fuck it, give Desmond Arceus. Lol.”
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rubbarband · 7 months
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Thank your lucky bugs and bands
closed starter with @ridiculed-baker
'Desmond incoming car!' Desmon's Ai partner assisted him
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"Got it!" Desmond the hero in training caught the car, putting it down and saving the family inside too. "Get to safety."
Just another day for the young Bungi band hero Desmond, working alongside another hero Desmond was taking it to one of the big bads, that's the only way young Des would be allowed to, teaming up with RexHemoth Desmond fought off M.T as he teased him, or Monsterous Tengu! It was much more fun calling him a nick name to tease him. There was something different about the big lug, during the bout his portals seemed to shimmer and react differently.
While trading blows with the pair of heroes, a rubber fist and a set of teeth and hard tail from the Dino king himself, The large masked Tengu..seemed like he was being possessed! He jerked and twitched like he was being pulled in many different directions, almost as if opened from the inside a portal popped out of his chest, a vortex of power, He was going through a quirk evolution! His power was increasing; sadly Desmond was on the charge when said portal opened up, Des is pulled inwards towards the portal.
"KID! DAMN!" Rex called out in his dino form trying to reach him, Desmond was sadly pulled in too fast, and following behind M.T was pulled into his own portal too!
It wasn't too long in a vortex of whites, blues and violets that almost blinded him that he was twirling over M.T and a grand visage, was that the eiffel tower?? God damnit M.T you teleported us to the other side of the world, he was unconscious however. A fall from this height would kill him, not Des who's mostly rubber.
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"Damn! Gotta catch him." Des stretched into a parachute and using the Eiffel tower stretched his arms and tail around the big fool, and darted around and tied a web of rubber arm around the giant. But at the cost of staining himself, it wasn't enough, if he had just a bit more!
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