#[ and he has time to prettify himself a little ]

[yepmadness]

Yeah so. I gave into the urges. I’ve never felt the need to write fanfic. Ever. But here I am I guess.

I wrote this at midnight soooo, who knows how this is. Just wanted to write John thoughts because he’s my guy—so have this short little piece that I hope other people can enjoy too :)

Fic under the cut: 1.8k words.

The memory of Arthur’s silence will remain more prettifying than his agony, but that doesn’t mean that his pain … his terror as the light and awareness left his eyes—their eyes—is what John was hoping to hear.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for. Relief? A gasping thank you? Pride in saving him? Would it be foolish to wish that the talisman fixed everything? That he would just be okay? Perhaps it is. He thinks it is. He was never going to have that. It would be unreasonable to think he would get any of that, but any joy of him living, of John fixing this, was ripped away when Arthur opened his mouth. All John wanted was a sound. A single noise, a response, any response to prove the talisman worked. He got that. He should be happy that he got that.

But he isn’t.

And Arthur is silent again.

And the world is dark—but not as dark as it could be.

John does not know what to consider if Arthur didn’t end up in the dark world … when he died. That place was the last thing he wanted for Arthur, and yet, it was always treated as a last resort. Of a sort. Between them, spoken only aloud by Arthur, so long ago now. A place they would end up together in—if they failed. It was not a future he ever wanted, but it was a possibility, even if it was one he despised the thought of. But now he knows that if Arthur dies he does not follow, instead he is left here to deal with the repercussions. To play the marker for lifeless remains, having to have witnessed, and experienced death without a choice. What if there is no place meant for them? Past all of this. He can’t exactly bury Arthur himself, if it came to it, he wouldn’t let him stay dead after all. Graves are a place of permanency, one they do not deserve, because they can be forgotten. Especially here. But John would never forget. He would never abandon him like that.

He would find a way, like today. They are stuck in this together. They both have to make their own path through this, together.

Except his body is no longer a weighted grave for them both, a tomb he would never dare leave, it is breathing. Arthur is alive—and so they are both alive, whatever that may entail. He is tentatively okay. Arthur, is okay. As okay as he can be, as they both can be. What matters is that he is alive—what matters now is keeping him alive.

John has almost lost Arthur more than once, twice, more than three times, and he wasn’t always there to fix it but he has tried to be. He often was. Every moment where Arthur falls, where he becomes immobile and lost to John, he feels himself succumb to a fragility accustomed to human bodies. Accustom to loss and fear. It’s horribly quiet without him. Even so, he saves him, he saves them both—because Arthur trusts him, and he trusts Arthur. He loves Arthur, and he is going to tell him that. He has to tell him that. Even if they both know it, to an extent. This can’t happen again without John making sure he knows it.

But this is never going to happen again.

Because Arthur died this time, and he almost lost everything. John felt the cold stone visage that he left in his absence. There was nothing here without Arthur, more so than just the lack of connection to their body, but the emptiness was staggering. He was alone. Completely and wholly alone in a space meant for two.

He hadn't felt terror like that since Arthur slit his throat before the King—but this was worse. They’ve grown … so much—and John wasn’t there to see the aftermath of his actions back then. This, he was aware of, in every aching moment of uncertainty. This could have been prevented, couldn’t it? They didn't need to go after the talisman, but they did, and John didn’t see her—not until it was too late. It was his words that made her kill him—an appeal made to the wrong person. Arthur wouldn’t have died if made the right decisions. But he always seems to make the wrong ones, no matter how hard he tries, that he and Arthur have in common.

But Arthur is alive again, so why does it still feel like he is grieving?

Arthur wouldn’t have gotten hurt, wouldn’t have died, if John wasn’t here. But John wouldn’t be here, who he is now, without Arthur. Perhaps that would be more demoralizing if Arthur hasn’t so vehemently stated that he doesn’t want to be rid of John, that they are in this together, until they both get what they want … no matter what that may be. Perhaps that is just happiness, in the end, no matter what it looks like. From one harrowing experience to the next, until they may finally rest. Arthur wants him here, in spite of all the pain it causes, and will continue to cause. Because Arthur is his friend, and more than that, but he is his friend.

Arthur might even be … pleased with his actions. That he has found himself, both with him, and all that he has learned for himself. That he knows who he is, in truth, after everything.

Even if he knows who he is now, who he wants to be, who he will always be—he knows he will want Arthur there too. Arthur who has been there for all his mistakes, his achievements, their joy and sorrow. Arthur deserved to be here for this too, but he wasn’t, and maybe that was the push he needed. He used to defend so much of himself to Arthur, expectation after expectation, misstep after misstep. But Arthur also gave him hope, the sanctity of trust, showed him love and sacrifice, and remained alongside him even when that trust was broken. Even if some mistakes can’t be forgiven … They let them rest. Arthur lets it rest, so they can move on, so they can grow.

Is it so wrong to become … whole without him there to witness it? Or is that how it was always meant to be. To be entirely his own, must he first be alone?

He hopes not, it is a terribly bleak thought, besides it can’t be. Not in every single world, even if Kayne said he … doesn’t change much. There must be some place where there is more joy to be held in his ownership of self. A better circumstance that does not lace his pride in one of their darkest moments. In his choosing of hope. In his choosing of Arthur. One that doesn’t extend off of a devastating fear, off of death. He doesn’t know if he would wish to change this, he would have—if Arthur was truly gone—but he isn’t, so he will just have to see how this plays out.

He is going to share everything he said—everything he did, with Arthur. Because he deserves to be a part of it. Because they do this, all of this, together. Because he wouldn’t be here without him. Because together they are whole of two, just like he said, just like he will say.

It’s not as if he will ever fit into the messy expectations of what it means to be human, per say, but he doesn’t need to. All he needs is to perceive himself as what he wants to be—and Arthur’s perception helps to, even if he doesn’t always meet that. Humanity will be whatever he wants it to be. However he defines it to be. A neutral point, in it all. For he is not a piece to be slotted away, but a piece to be shelved along the masses, every individual part given a space of its own, and it is a space he deserves. A space he had long since earned.

A space they both deserve, to play their own key.

Because Arthur is alive—and so is he, in every sense of the word.

He’d panicked, when Arthur lost consciousness again, for a second he thought he had lost him once more. John had been so ready to reach for the talisman for a second time—for he wasn’t going to allow Arthur to leave, not yet, not ever. But he was breathing, albeit raggedly, but he was. John was going to keep his promises, he had to. He was going to take care of this, of him, and they were both going to be okay. Just like the times before this, and everytime that may come after, because Arthur isn’t going to die.

They’re going to get their happy ending, despite what she said, one where Arthur does not end up as a corpse.

An ending where they both know want they want, what they deserve, who they are.

Moving Arthur to the witch’s bed was difficult, to say the least, without exasperating the wound and the subpar stitching ... even if it has improved. John won’t allow it to get any worse—and Yorrick keeps telling him it’s survivable, or that he is more likely to survive anyway. Even so, John periodically checks to make sure Arthur is still breathing, that his heart is still beating.

Arthur is alive. He will stay alive.

He should stop worrying, Yorrick keeps spouting that he is arguably fine. He should stop.

But the reality is that he can’t, and he doubts will for a long while to come.

He is intimately aware of every minuscule movement Arthur makes, of every second of awareness he gains, and he coaxes him back to the present through all of it. A melody of promises, of reaffirming how he feels, telling Arthur everything over and over and over. It doesn’t matter if he is aware of what he says, if he hears him at all, John will repeat his words for as long as they are needed.

John never lets him arrive to the dread of waking up alone, speaking as soon as he stirs and recognition strike, each and every time. They are never going to be alone again, severed or separated, and John tells him that. Because they are whole together.

And eventually, when Arthur finds his speech, a gentle—hoarse voice long since worn by constant yelling born from the suffering of the waking. He repeats back everything John has been telling him through the suffering of uncertainty, of recovery and knowing and fear.

Arthur moves, ever so slightly, before John can protest—and he brushes his hand, John’s hand. It is a little thing, but it is such a stark constant to the stillness he had before. After the pain of it all, this is a relief, a reprieve. Arthur is alive and John can tell he’s weakly smiling, even if that is not something he can see, when he speaks up for the first time in hours.

John isn’t surprised by what he hears, he already knew, after all. They’ve both said it before. But John it is nice to hear regardless, because together, they are whole. A comfort to both him and Arthur both. He does not want to live, to experience life as it was shown to him, without him. He wouldn’t have gotten here without him. Together they are whole. Both their own wills, colliding, and depending on each other. Made by each other.

Arthur is alive.

Arthur is alive and he breaks the one sided silence by saying, “I love you too.”

Perhaps that, for now, is enough.

[katyspersonal]

3, 18, 24, 29, 32 for Mico :3

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

Like I said, my first introduction to Micolash was his theme song, paired with a concept art image of him since it was on Youtube. And I already was instantly captivated! My initial impression was that for some reason he was a helpless puppet, and I wanted to know of what exactly! So I've caught up on his lore.... and was sorely disappointed, because back then Fromsoft barely giving information was a novelty for me XD Still, I appreciated the madness, and the mystery. I was really impressed as he felt like someone on much higher level of knowledge, in NO way I felt like he was "silly" or "a joke" x)

18) Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

Both! Imagining him laugh genuinely, not in madness, is one of my most comforting fantasies... ;-; I love seeing him peaceful, happy and, of course, loved! At the same time, I enjoy depictions of him recollecting his humanity only to collapse in tears and horror. Reflecting on how far everything has gone, on the people he had lost (usually Rom), on having lost himself..

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

This is... a heavy question. Micolash used to frequent my dreams. There is a whole saga about it, in a way, ahaha! I think my very first dream about him truly bound us. I dreamed about being Rom (even before I knew or created anything about her), walking on the water surface of the lake but it had water lilies, and seeing Micolash's back turned as he was praying. I tried to reach out to him and call him, but got absolutely ignored, then I looked down in the water and realised that although "I" perceived myself as a girl, I in reality became a spider. Realisation made me wake up, strangely with extreme nausea and thirst, even if I was not sick or poisoned.

But there were many other dreams a while later after that one. In this order: he invaded my average nightmare about my stepdad saying 'she is ours now' to him; him pulling me down into the sea to drown; him deceiving me with "loving me back" whereas he was hypnotising me to follow into apparently a trap (sort of an attic full of dust, books and mirrors) and I woke up when I snapped out of trance; the dream where he kept tormenting me by putting me through death by Frenzy over and over yet I kept respawning and unable to change my situation, and once I found a Sedative that was my only chance to get out of the 'loop' I've given it to a mother whose child kept suffering the same fate. When he saw it, he spared me and teleported me into a bed to have a rest... while he was very, very harshly scolding me for being "too obsessive" and weirding HIM out, that I was too much for HIM, and that he'd never love me and I was nobody for him?

And the last one in this 'line' was when I was little again, in my room, in the time where a very particular trauma happened to me. Except, it was full of the same fog as Nightmare of Mensis, and Micolash was there, offering to undo it...? Unfortunately, it didn't happen, but I appreciated the offer. Ironic that THE nightmare man would offer to stop my nightmares (or rather, take control over them, as "lesser evil"). And, of course, don't forget semi-regular Micolaurence dreams!

29) Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

I DO! And sometimes not for a good reason. It is like an instinct! xD Like, at times I am unable to take the joke about him being "just silly unwashed unhinged failure wet cat" fsdhfhds I am dead serious, I actually sometimes pout and want to write a long essay on how WELL AKTUALY he is very complicated and deep and messed up character! This is why other simps don't like talking to me anymore fhshdfshfs

The most defensive I've ever gotten about him was when an anon complimented an artist that (deliberately) prettified Micolash because they liked "aesthetic" or whatever. Anon praised the artist for "fixing" the "ugly" character, without exaggeration, and for making him "actually attractive" :/ But you've been there with me, you've gotten mad at that anon with me, you remember. Saying that someone made the non-conventionally attractive character aKtUaLLy lOoK GuD by replacing him with idealised version true to one's own preferences in appearance.. You know how Gehrman haters say that 'Doll is prettyfied idealised version of Maria crafted to his tastes that in no way reflects Maria's actual vibe'? I think as hard as I cringed at that moment, but in the end, I am able to understand how Gehrman haters feel when gamerbros simp for Doll!

So yeah, after realising that I have this problem of getting too defensive over integrity of my favs, including appearance, I have to restrain myself and rationalise. For example, 'maybe he used to look much prettier and healthier in Byrgenwerth times!' is reasonable! I just... won that trait in 'unlikeable' autistic fan traits lottery. You know, that one. That, if left unattended, will surely one day make the fan completely alone. As anyone is scared of telling them anything in fear of being "corrected". With only the characters they so-much-cherished to keep them company now. What a sad fate. I am sure there will be a better use for it one day than acting as though fictional characters have human rights sighhhhh....

32) If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

Well, look at this man, he never eats anything anymore because he's too focused on his research, so ANY meal would be good for him x) But greenish skin tone instantly makes me think of iron deficiency, so I would offer him chickpea spinach curry!

Thank you for asking!!

[uncaught-coolfish]

for the fandom meme, drakengard/nier!

OK. time to go full ADHD

Drakengard/NieR series spoilers below:

favorite female character: Devola from NieR:Gestalt/NieR:Replicant! Firstly, I love redheads, she’s a redhead, and as much as I don’t like how they “prettified” many of the models in the remaster, she looks adorable. Secondly… I just love her personality. That spunky, carefree yet kind archetype is one I love and she is that to a T. Reading “The Red and the Black” novella, as tough as that was, really made me love her more than I already did. And she’s got a great design. Second place would probably be Manah from Drakengard 1, who is also probably my favorite character in all of the games. She is iconic.

Favorite male character? Caim. Caim Caim Caim. Also my favorite protagonist of the games. Even if in comparison to the other games’ protagonists he might not be as “deep”, he’s just… fun. Baby girl. And a monsterfucker. Don’t forget that. Plus, he got the best cutscene in all of the games in Drakengard 2. Holy shit. Secondly would be Emil, given he’s been my profile picture. Emil is the sweetest little guy and I would take him to a Dairy Queen.

Favorite Book/Season/Etc(in this case, game IG): Tie between NieR 2010 and Drakengard 1. NieR 2010 is my favorite game of all time, while Drakengard 1 is my favorite of the 5 Drakenier games EASILY. I’d give an explanation, but I’d need like five other posts to do that :P

Favorite Episode(in this case, a cutscene): THE FUCKING CUTSCENE IN DRAKENGARD 2 WHERE CAIM APPEARS OH MY FUCKING GOD. LITERALLY PEAK. IDC IF YOU ADORE DRAKENGARD 2 OR THINK ITS DOGSHIT IT IS CANONICAL IN MY HEART. THE WAY HE SUDDENLY APPEARS BEHIND THOSE KNIGHTS. THE SOUND EFFECTS WHEN HE STOMPS HIS FOOT AND OH MY GOOOOODDD THE SOUND DESIGN ON HIS SWORD??? THE FUCKING SOUND OF THAT???? HOOOOOOOOO

AND THE SHOT OF ALL THIS BLOOD GOING EVERYWHERE FROM WHEN HE KILLS THE KNIGHTS AND MANAH IS JUST STARING AT HIM…. -^]*]*\€]*\€|*]£]+\€|€]]<|£€|!|]>]€ it’s so good so good and the music they used was also amazing. Runner up is undeniably Kaine’s rant in NieR 2010. There is a fucking reason it opens Gestalt. Don’t even play the game, just watch that cutscene (in English) and you will be hit with impeccable atmosphere and voice acting.

Favorite Cast Member: Laura Bailey!! Her as Kaine floors me every time. I’ll also give props to the guy who voiced 9S because my godddd that was a startling performance. And Yoko Taro himself, for feeding my ADHD his stupid little games.

Favorite ship? As much as I don’t like Drakengard 3 nor Zero herself… Zero x Accord has won my heart. That’s probably just because Accord is very Homura coded but that’s ok. And of course, Angelus and Caim. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what they have. (Dragon and Donkey coded)

A character I’d die defending? Uhhh since pretty much all of these characters are sucky people and the fandom is chill with it… I guess Lady One? Idk lol.

A character I just can’t sympathize with? Zero oh my god!!! I don’t like her. Sorry guys, I don’t like the lady who makes r*** jokes towards the men she takes after killing her sisters, no matter what “good reason” she has for doing so.

A character I grew to love? …Arioch. Fucking… Arioch. She is a horrible disgusting person… but she’s funny about it. Also Jackass from NieR:Automata, I’d go fishing with her!

My ANTI-OTP? Honestly, Kaine x Nier. No real reason why it’s just not my cup of tea lol.

Thanks for the ask!

[rqnarok]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | pervy!worst wolverine x fem!reader

summary: logan and you finally resolved some tension after pining at each other for months.  

wcs/tags: smut! mdni. porn with little plot. worst wolverine!logan. fem!reader. slight dumbification. pervy!logan!!! kinda obsessed!logan. belly bulge. pining. size kink. dom!logan. sub!reader. mentions of cheating. wade is a cupid. pet names (princess, pretty, kiddo, etc). unprotected p in v. not proofread. wc: 3,3k 

In the beginning, it’s you, Logan, and Wade—watching some well-known sitcom at night, you teaching them how to bake, and going out somewhere–all platonic and casual. 

Now that Wade’s back with Vanessa, you and Logan get to spend more time just in a pair.

And it turns out not to be so casual. 

What used to be a friendly watch-together revolved to his hands on your sides as he kept you still on his lap. Wet strings of salvia appear every time both of you pull away from the kiss to catch a breath.

“Such a pretty thing.” He breathes as he pampers kisses around your collarbones, leaving little love bites he knows will make you blush the next time you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Logan thinks you’re the cutest thing he has ever seen in God knows how long. Maybe it’s because he’s a perverted old man but who can blame him? He has been lonely for a prolonged time—nothing wrong with craving a sweet treat for himself, right?

“L-Logan…” You’d mewl and whimper out his name—asking for more, “Can I suck your cock, Lo? Please—”

But no matter how hard you try, he never gives in, “Shh. No, honey. Y’re gonna hurt yourself - you don’t know how to do it. Next time, alright?’” 

So that’s it, not-so-innocent kisses as the lights are dimmed. The kisses that linger around you for the next few days. The kisses that make you wander in anguish because they remind you of his hesitancy. Was it just a casual thing for Logan?

For Logan, he knows his nights were plagued with endless nightmares that kept playing over his mistakes—he too knows that the horrific images cease to the ground in your presence. 

Always taking care of him with your sweet smiles that are merely too good for this world, too good for him.

Still, Logan could not fathom what he did to deserve having you by his side, feeding him treats as if he were a dog. Doesn’t matter because he feels like one, already. An old dog who’d gnaw at anything their master gave, an old dog who’s afraid to hurt their master—the same way that he is with you. 

Fuck. He still remembers the first time he saw you. 

The clock on the coffee table shows the time: 11 o’clock. Logan was still snoring lightly against the cushion, which smelled like the earthy-flavored beer he drank beforehand; his ears perked up at the sound of knocking on the front apartment door.   

Logan cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore the noise. Expecting whoever stands at the front door to leave him the fuck alone. Since Wade is out for the day, he hopes the apartment gives out a vacant vibe of fuck off, no one’s here.

But the knocking won’t stop. Logan had no choice apart from waking up at the fervid sound and muttered grumpily “Fuck this shit” as he composes himself to grab another bottle of beer and walks wobbly towards the front door.

Truthfully, Logan expects to find some mail-boy or another insurance agent, or even the old lady down the street who keeps giving him yoga brochures.  

But boy, was he wrong. 

What he found instead when he opened the door was you. 

A pretty girl who is standing before him in your neatly prettified hairstyle, your plain tight top paired with a white skirt that rests just below your knees, and with a smile that warms the entire gloomy hallway.

Logan felt his cheeks heat up. (He convinced himself that it was merely the intoxicating effect of the alcohol he drank.) 

You were there to deliver the cookies that Wade had ordered from the bakery two days ago. He can still recall how the tabs of your fingers grip the pink carton box a little too tightly before hesitantly handing it to his upper body, showing him a glimpse of the freshly baked cookies that you made earlier today.

He’ll be damned. How your sweet voice sounded like honey. How you utter your name and how you utter his. How you glance back at him one or two times before completely disappearing from his view. 

And how he did not even notice the slight bulge in his pants until he returned to the living room couch, still holding your box of cookies in his palm.  

Logan remembers it all.

For some time, Logan manages to ignore this fluttering fondness on his chest and make up ‘logical’ excuses after excuses of why he wants to be with you all the damn time. 

But now, when you are going on a one-week trip with your friends in the middle of the month, he can’t run away from his feelings anymore.

Every little shit Wade does, pisses him off more than usual that he actually has a great urge to throw the big-mouthed guy out of the window. He began to drown himself back into cigars and alcohol—his unhealthy coping mechanisms which he successfully maintained to ease down while you were around. His throat started to hurt again and he feels bad the entire fucking time he was awake. He begins to dig his own dirty grave again. 

When it’s his turn to do the laundry chores downstairs, he does it crabbily with his brows furrowed and an almost finished cigar in between his furrowing lips. That is until he sees your pile of clothing that just happened to be there in your section in the laundry room. Maybe you intend to wash it all together with your staycation garments—Logan’s not sure.

But he’s sure that he caught a glimpse at your pink panties which is laid out prominently somewhere below your other outfits. Logan curses a voiceless fuck while hanging his head low, ashamed of his own self for what he’s about to do. And before he can compose himself, he steps forward and reaches out for the lacey undies. Bringing the fabric to his nose—inhaling your scent through his nostrils. 

He’s now sure that he misses you. That this is no casual thing. 

Logan grumbles “Fuck it” under his breath and slips the fabric into his pockets—thanking the heavens that there’s no other person in the laundry room to witness his perverted act. 

When he gets back to his shared apartment, he also thanks the heavens that Wade left a ‘Out for the night :3 See ya’ tomorrow grandpa!” sticky note on the refrigerator. By this, he can continue smelling you throughout the lace that he stole earlier—now with his other hand moving rapidly up and down on his hard length as strings of your name are grunted out. 

When Wade goes back the day after, he keeps rumbling thoughtlessly about so much shit until he utters Logan a question with his mouth still full of your cookies. 

The older man had to groan a mindless ‘What?’ because he cannot grasp what the fuck Wade just asked him amidst eating.

“I said, peanut, do ya’ have a crush on her or something?” 

Logan clenches his jaw and sips another taste of his sour drink, “On who?” He knows who.

“Don’t play stupid with me, old man. Y’know damn well who!” Wade splays a stupid eating grin as he takes another crunchy bite, looking at Logan funnily. 

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking ‘bout, bub.” It’s been 6 days without you and Logan is going insane. He knows damn well what Wade is talking about.

“Holy shit! Look, Mr. Sunshine, I gotta admit, you two would be such a cutie-looking little beauty and the beast couple if she doesn’t already have a boyfriend.”

Logan feels his organ actually stops beating for a minute there, 

A boyfriend? You have a fuckin’ boyfriend?

Wade slaps his own hand to his mouth when he catches a drastic change in Logan’s expression, “Oh, she hasn't told you yet, Wolvie? Upsie.” 

Who? Since when? Why didn’t you tell him? Is he not enough for you? Various questions loom over his already clouded head and he had to swig the liquor in five gulps to calm himself down.

Logan has his eyes opened the entire night. Can’t sleep and ridiculously drunk in alcohol–and jealousy. 

Still, he feels an utter excitement in the morning since he remembers that you’re returning today. Pulling himself together by getting up from the old leather couch to get a nice shower, trimming his beard, and fixing his appearance for you. 

Hell, he did not even remember the last time he tried this hard for someone. Possibly never. All this is just in case you want to see him today. 

You did.

When the clock on the wall ticks at 7 p.m., you knock on the door whilst bringing a bag of souvenirs. Looking soft in your pajamas and more beautiful than the last time he saw you.   

“Hey, kid—” Before he gets to greet you, your figure already latches to him in desperation. The souvenirs drop mindlessly to the ground as your arms drape around his broad shoulders - kissing him so eagerly. 

He pulls away to lock the door behind you before latching his lips onto yours again, sensually thrusting his tongue inside and gaining dominance with ease. 

Fuck. 

“L-Logan… I’ve missed you.” 

A small shriek went out of your red-kissed lips when he hauled your body up onto his hips, “Fuckin’ missed you too, pretty.” 

When you both came down to the couch with a loud thud, Logan’s already muttering strings of I miss you’s in between kisses. Inside the apartment, the world felt far away - his large palms all over your body - crowding you with his presence.  

It’s not long before the pads of your fingers play around the hem of his sweatpants, “W-would you show how much you’ve missed me, Logan?” You seduce him - looking at him as you bite your bottom lip.

And he groans. This is wrong. You have a boyfriend and he’s taking advantage of you. Fuck.

“F-fuck, sweetheart. This is wrong—” He breathes out on your hair - his logical thinking tries to get ahead of his heart, his desires, “This is so wrong.” 

You look up at him from the crook of his neck, “W-why?” Steadying yourself on his thick thighs - the movements are all to a halt as the both of you stare at each other in silence. 

“Y’know why, pretty girl.”

“I don’t care... I- I want this, I want you.” A tear began to well up in your eyes, “You said you missed me…” Showing your utter neediness by kissing his stubble - each kiss takes your time as you do it without hurrying, “I thought about you all the time I was away..” 

What kind of man Logan is if he refuses your sweet pleas? 

When you beg him as if he’s everything you ever need?

Logan doesn’t care anymore if you have a boyfriend. He’ll just pretend he doesn’t know shit. 

Fuck. If this is his last time seein’ you, he’ll make sure it’s something, alright. He’ll make sure your insides are molded into the shape of this cock. 

His ‘last time’ ? Logan is a fucking liar.

Logan losing a battle with his own self leads to you sprawled bare on his sheets. You could feel his piercing gaze on you, sending a pulse of arousal straight through your pussy.

His fingertips grazing your bare skin - his touch draws electricity on your vulnerable figure, “Been wanting to do this for months, y’know that, baby?” He murmures as he pinches your peaked nipple, luring a soft moan out, “So beautiful for your old man. So fuckin’ perfect.” 

Your cheeks warm up at his words and before you have the chance to respond, his lips are on yours. Each kiss is filled with neediness and desires. 

He trails his mouth down down down until he’s meet with your mound - and his mouth is on you. 

“A-ah!” 

The first lick of his tongue was soft but it was enough to make you whine out a high-pitched noise in desperation. ”Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He groans out before tasting you again. Calloused hands holding your thighs in place as he laps up and down on your slicked core, “Fuck. Tastes sweeter than any of your sweet treats.” 

Every flick of his tongue only pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling at the need to let go. 

“L-Logan…, please.” You whimper out as a tear falls into your flushed cheeks - as far as you’re loving this, you need more. You need him inside. 

And Logan understands, he looks up at you from where he is, his stubble glistening in your slick under the strips of moonlight, “What’s that? Y’want more, sweetheart?” He questions you in a low growl as he rubs circles on your thigh.

“Yesyesyes, please-e.” You nod your head erratically to show him how much you need him and he fucking eats it all up. That you’re begging for him. Not for anyone else. 

When he stands straight before you, you can see his large girth that bobs into his stomach. The sight of the flushed tips and the visible vein makes you feel warmer and hotter. 

The sculpted muscle on his lightly-haired chest, the firmness of his abs, the long vein that leads lower—all of it exists to drive you insane.

Logan tilts your face so that you are forced to meet his stare, “My eyes are up here, baby.” He chuckles darkly, breath ghosting over your spit-licked lips and you blush in embarrassment. 

“G’nna fuck you slow, alright? Make you feel so good.” Make you forget about anyone else than him. 

Your breath hitches at his words - only managed to nod as a way to respond, too breathless to speak. Letting him have the upper hand.

He kisses you again before shifting himself between your thighs and you can feel the hardness of his member gazing against your entrance. The anticipation was unbearable for the both of you and when he kissed you again, it was filled with tenderness and the raw need that he had kept these past months.

The tension finally shatters to the floor when he takes you, “F-fuck. Atta girl.” You both moan in unison when he pushes in. 

Logan feels giddy because he finally gets you. Not your panties nor not his lewd thoughts about you. He gets the real you. 

With one more deliberate thrust, Logan sank himself into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending a euphoric feeling into you, “H-ah, Logan..!” Your mouth gape in a broken gasp, your nail digging into his large back. He’s big—but at the same time it’s everything you ever need.

In some tawdry bar he was in, he concluded that the rest of his life is meaningless. Until some dickhead in a silly red suit takes him to this place and Logan’s sure his life is more meaningful than ever now that he knows you. 

“I know, baby. I know. Y’can take it, you’re my girl, aren’t you?” Logan groans, finding a paradox within his own sentence, knowing that it isn’t true but at the same time it is—confirmed by your drunken rambles, “Yeahyea-, yours, ‘m yours.” 

The noises he makes are deep and rough as he buries himself into the hilt, hitting your gummy spot while pressing his hips against yours. Making you let out strings of ah ah ah’s onto his mouth. 

“Feels good, huh, princess?” When you open your eyes, he’s already watching you. Watching your eyes flicker lower and lower until you catch an obscene sight.

You stare at the prodding bulge with a childlike fascination.   

Managing to move your hands over your flat stomach - your trembling fingers pressing down gently and you gasp. Logan hits so deep you could feel it on your soft skin, stretching your limits. 

You have no idea that your action drives Logan fucking insane. Turning him into some kind of wild animal that hunts for its prey. Encouraging him to move faster, his thigh muscles slap against your skin.     

“Yeah, kiddo, y’feel me there?” The bed creaks beneath as he starts thrusting at a cruel pace. 

You whine out as you watch him slide in and out, throwing your head back when you feel him against your palms that still rest above your stomach—the constant nudging drives you crazy, “S-so big…ah-”

“-S’that so? Hmm?” The sensation is nothing you could ever feel, making you see stars as your eyes roll back. His large hands drift away from your breast to join your hand, his palm pressing down hard - forcing you to feel more of him through your soft skin.

Hammering you with fervor, you both struggle to breathe as the air seems to be sucked out, “Gonna cum, L-Lo.” He’s melting at the sight of you: your mouth wide open, saliva gathering in the corners, some already dripping down to your chin.

Fuck. Can anyone else make you feel this good, huh?

“C-come f’me, sweetheart. Come f’your old man, yeah?” You’re already in another world, but then his hand leaves your stomach to tease your swollen clit. His rough thumb rubs fast circles as he keeps pounding at you. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the obscene squelches make your head spin even more. 

“A-ah!” You shriek out as you come undone, your tight walls clamping down on him. Visible tears roll down from your face as you arch your back, causing him to sink deeper. 

Logan watches as the bulge gets even bigger and he stills his movements; animalistic growls leaving his lips as his hips twitch to follow you over the edge. ”Fuckin’ Christ.” With his balls tight and pumping, he reaches for your hand and places it on your stomach again—making you feel how he fills you up to the brim with his hot cum.

You gasped as he fell above you, crushing you with his body weight and bulky figure. When your eyes met, you both laugh breathlessly at the scene. Then Logan hovers forward to latch his warm lips into yours in a tender kiss, calming you after the rough encounter, “I love you.” He lowly mutters against your skin, almost voiceless but you heard it. You did. 

His body rolls beside you in tiredness. Who knows his age is showing more during these moments, huh? 

Then the tips of his fingers gently stroke your hair when you move closer and rest your head on the crook of his neck. Logan’s heart sank when he remembered that you’re not his. That you have someone else in your heart. That possibly after this you’d be gone in the morning. 

Fuck. 

Before he even realized it, his nostrils fumed and the words just came out of his mouth, unfiltered, “What would your boyfriend think of this, huh?” 

He hoped the sentence would come out as a biting satire, a dark comedy to cover up the hurtIng feeling but your eyes look at him with nothing but utter confusion.

“W-what?” 

“Shit.” Logan curses and closes his eyes, one of his palms draping roughly on his face in regret, should not fucking say that so soon, “Y-yeah. Wade told me - you got a boyfriend.” 

“Logan…” You lift yourself up from the mattress to gently cradle his face, “I-I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Sweetheart, don’t—”

You shake your head erratically, “No, Logan, I’ve— I don’t…like anyone beside you. I don’t have a boyfriend.” The voice that you let out sounded so fragile but at the same time, convincing. Especially when you put on those big eyes to assure him—he knows you’re telling the truth.

Oh, what the fuck? 

The two of you stare at each other in perplexion, too much information is given at once - too many things to address. 

But the baffling thinking stops at one name. Wade Wilson.

Let’s just say Wade was getting tired of you and Logan playing the mouse and cat game then. He needs you both to resolve the tension already in a way… or two. 

And he may or may not want to kick Logan out of the apartment. 

[miodzio102]

"The Reading Prince"

There comes a point in a man's life when he inevitably has to ask himself: oh gosh! should I really start wearing a toupee already? But guess what, I am NOT one of those men, my hair is so luscious, enduring, and abundant (and unfading, may I add) that it wouldn't simply last a lifetime- no... they could withstand centuries, millennia, floods, droughts, famines, and pestilence. Whenever I go out Supermodels and beauty gurus chase me around the streets with scalpels -trying to take my scalp! Can You imagine how annoying that gets?

Nevermind my sacred locks and strands, I created this neat picture quite unexpectedly- it eventually emerged in its full glory after lots of tinkering coloring, and prettifying, when I looked at the finished thing I felt something of a combination of surprise with a little element of pride, a bit like when you wake up inside the vault of Kosovo's national gold reserve after a particularly feverish libation, completely covered in pig butter.

I once again was a bit inspired by East Asian woodcuts (it's not just the Japanese goddamit) this time much more noticeably and literally, The young man on the picture seems to be up to something... mischievous... what is he reading? The Communist Manifesto? Mein Kampf? "Jokes for Minecrafters: Booby traps, bombs, boo-boos, and more"? one of my extra silly posts? idk, make up your own headcanon my guy. Thought for the day: it's better to get shot in the head with a headcannon than to have your sash slashed with a slashfic.

(ps. yes I know the two clocks show different hours, shhhhhhh)

[thequarrelsome]

LAMBERT APPRECIATION  -  08. / ?

( can be reblogged by rp partners for character’s tag )

[blossyboo]

You know what, I don’t care. I’m still gonna believe that Eren was the father of Historias child and that it was made out of love.

I mean if you think about it, the theory is still as strong as it was before. And I mean it is just a theory, so we are free to chose if we want to believe it or not! :)

Note: Please don’t read this essay if you just want to spread hate! I just want to share my thoughts because I know this might cheer some people up (I don’t care about what ship is canon or not, but I do care about Eren having possible offspring ‘cause I always knew that he couldn’t survive). Also, please note that English is not my first language.

This is how I see it:

The only thing that’s new in this chapter is the fact that Eren returns Mikasa’s feelings. But we are never told when or how it happened.

Now, I think that Eren only ever saw Mikasa as his family and refused to let himself feel anything more than that because he didn’t know that she felt the same (because let’s be real, EreMika is a little weird).

So, when Mikasa told him that he is her family, he took that as a rejection and refused to acknowledge his own feelings. Or maybe he couldn’t understand his own feelings until he heard that Mikasa was in love with him.

In my opinion it is also still definitely possible that Eren still had feelings for Historia. I mean, he has shown way more affection towards her than he ever did for Mikasa, and apparently he actually had feelings for her the entire time.  For example, there was this whole ‘what if’ scenario where we were shown what would’ve happened if Mikasa suggested that they would run away together. But Eren actually suggested to Historia that they could run away together in chapter 130.  Also, Eren was basically friendzoning Mikasa over and over again, while showing admiration towards Historia, being so close to her that Mikasa got jealous (suggesting that he was closer with her than his other friends/girls), always referring to her seperately, and so on. I think we all read the manga.

The way I see it, Eren didn’t acknowledge/realize his feelings for Mikasa until his talk with Zeke. And I know this is a bitter pill to swollow for Eremika shippers, but when Eren found out about Mikasa being in love with him, his mind wandered off to a talk with Historia about making babies while the sun was setting. And when Zeke snaps him out of it, a sad, guilty look appears on his face.

In all honesty, I took this scene as a confirmation of him being the father ever since I first read that chapter. I was so shook when I went online months later and realized that there were still a good chunk of people debunking the theory.

I mean, seriously. What else could be the reason that Eren thought back of talking to Historia about her having a child (while the sun was setting) when he was told that Mikasa was in love with him? Literally, why would he think of that in that specific moment? There is no other explanation. Even if Eren eventually returned Mikasas feelings for him, it is still possible that he is the father of Historias child and that he also had feelings for her. (I mean seriously. That’s life. And if aot is known for anything, it’s that it shows the reality of the world without prettifying it.)

Now, you could argue that Isayama only put the scene in there so readers would assume that Eren is the father (theorize). But it doesn’t change the fact that the scene is in the manga and therefore has meaning within the story. There is no other logical reason for this scene’s existence (within the story), Eren must be the father of Historia’s child.  At least that’s what I believe. It is what I believed ever since I first read that chapter. (And fyi, the people I talked to in rl about aot also all agreed. I was honestly so shook when I went online and saw how many people refused to even acknowledge the possibility! haha)

Another fact that suggest that this theory is true is the fact that Historia is apparently married now to farmer-kun. If he really was the father, I don’t see why they wouldn’t have gotten married before the time skip/during her pregnancy. I also think that if he actually was the father, we would’ve gotten at least a tiny little side story of their relationship (similar to Sasha and Nicolo’s, I mean we literally only know about them that Sasha liked the food he made, but something little like that would’ve been enough for Historia and her now husband as well). But farmer-kun still has neither a face nor a name.  I think what happened instead was that Historia simply told farmer-kun that she was pregnant, but did not mention Eren at all since she knew about the rumbling. And since he was still feeling like he owed her something, he agreed to take on the role of the dad for the public eye.

Historia also knew that Eren was going to die. I can imagine that over the time, Historia actually started to have feelings for farmer-kun. That exlpains why he has no face and no name. Their love-story happened during the time skip and has no relevance to the story (because he is not the father).

But why did Eren not mention his child to Armin? Simple, because he wants to protect his child. If anyone found out that Eren has left offspring... I mean, I think we all know what would’ve happened. It is like Eren said. There is no way he would have been forgiven for, you know, genocide. And his child would've had to bear the consequences of his actions.

There is also a transition from Eren’s head being carried to the child opening his/her eyes while also being carried. You know, we are free to interpret this scene as we like! And apparently Eren showing no interest in Mikasa can be interpreted as him being in love with her so I don’t think that it is too far of a stretch to connect this transition to him being the father.

So yeah, these are my two cents on this topic. I usually don’t get involved when the fandom comes together to react/fight/whatever. But I care about Eren being the dad for 4 important reasons:

Ever since finding out about the curse of Ymir, I wanted Eren to have a family before he dies. I wanted it even more when it became clear that he would commit genocide --> sealing his own fate. I still want a little baby version of Eren to be alive, because I JUST LOVE THIS CHARACTER SO MUCH OKAY.

The theme of love/having a family/multiply has been brought up over and over again, it would’ve made perfect sense if Eren wanted to have a family before activating the rumbling. It would also make the scene where Krüger tells Grisha to have a family so much more epic if Eren took that advice, showing that he understands the meaning of it.

I really don’t want to think that Historia had to degrade herself to having sex with a random guy to save herself from inheriting the beast titan. And Eren is the only possibe candidate for whom she could’ve had feelings for (and vice versa)

I don’t want Eren to die a virgin.

THE END

P.S.: I honestly don’t care about shipping. It was never about who Eren ends up with. It was set in stone that he had to die. It was only about whether or not he was the babys father and whether or not he returned Mikasas feelings. And imo, you both won! So congrats! Please don’t hate each other, this is just a manga after all.

[funny-house]

huhu u got me to watch opal the other day since u keep talking abt it and im glad bc i Really Enjoyed It but !! anyways , i saw u mention mirror man doing makeup for someone and i keep thinking about it so Thoughts Incoming sorry in advance lmao. i think he would like to do claires makeup (and teach her abt it in general) when she gets a bit older,, both bc it seems like a legitimate hobby he would enjoy (i imagine if he werent Like That he probably could have been a makeup artist or something similar!) and bc he would like to ‘prettify’ her a bit.

and ah well,,, a lot of parents Like Him sometimes try 2 make their child a carbon copy of themselves or of an image they enjoy so if he grew to like claire more or already does like her enough for that (or just, wants things to revolve around him More) hed try to nudge things in that direction. and in his own way i think He might think hes doing something good, he knows when he was her age he would have killed to have a parent so eager to help him learn makeup and stuff but. claire isnt him. she probably isnt even interested in it at all but shes kinda desperate for Nice Moments and also doesnt wanna risk making him angry so she goes along with it. she always has her head in the clouds so all the things hes saying is too much at once but shes trying to comprehend it,,,,,

nd he keeps giggling at her for how awkwardly she moves her arm when putting on foundation and blush nd gets kind of annoyed with her for repeatedly flinching when he tries to help her with mascara nd teases her a bit for trying to taste the lip gloss (and keeps pointing out a flaw or two on her face “well, youve always had a sort of weird shaped face but youve always had the cutest little smile, its like Mine :)”) but they do it !! together !!! and nothing (that) bad happened !!!!!! so claire is happy,,,,,,,,,,, until that inevitably opens the gates of him trying to pick out what she wears for her and “””suggesting””” hairstyles for her and getting manipulative and even flatout Angry when she doesnt do what he wants her to (bc even when things Seem like theyre about claire they Are Not, its what He wants for her , in the end its still all about him) but, ive rambled enough to you already <:o) sorry for talking so much i just wanted to chat a bit abt opal with you !!!! hope ur doing well hehe . and im sorry this is rambly nd probably incomprehensible i just did a lot of work hkehri

ohhhhhhhh !!! FIRST  I am super glad that all my constant rambling about this man has allowed you to go watch Jack Stauber’s awesome little short, it’s really good and deserves all the support !!!

also i totally appreciate you wanting to share your thoughts with me ;u;

AND I TOTALLY AGREE  the whole idea of him projecting himself onto her, trying to take over her, I think that is so fitting for the short itself tbh, because it’s a reflection ( mirrors, hehe ) of what the mother wants from Claire as well. The thing that terrified Claire near the end is the mother reaching to hold onto her, specifically after the mom said that she was going to become just like her. The idea of her becoming her parents? it terrifies her, clearly!!

And Mirror Man, he is what they call a “archetypal narcissistic abuser”, in my eyes at least,  and it would be really really common to see someone like that not only be so controlling and self absorbed that they treat their child like a decoration to themselves, but also use that child, especially as they get old enough to have opinions on the situation, to turn them against their partner-- such as.... the mom

so picture this

Claire is like 10-12, and she’s bright and she’s got a good heart but she’s WELL and truly Affected by the years of being brought up in that ridiculously toxic hell hole-- I mean house no idea if the grandpa would live that long uhhh in his state, but even if he does, he’s still very sick, disabled, and senile and he isn’t going to be much help. and Claire, she’s starting to have Opinions,, on how things are running around here,,      but in swoops Mirror Dad

He’s like........ it’s your mother’s fault. Oh, absolutely, have you seen her? I mean look at her, she’s disgusting. she’s a drug addict, she’s a drunk, she’s ugly, she’s the reason you feel like this-- and maybe some of that is understandable, i mean she’s a real mess of a mom, no mistake, but hey

Nobody’s going to tell Claire who made her that way! Nobody’s going to tell her Mirror Dad was the one who trapped her in an unloving, possibly violent relationship, with a kid, and ripped apart every inch of her self worth !!!

Nope. she just sees the aftermath. So mirror dad...... turns claire on her. And she starts to side with him on things and she starts to even kinda talk like him maybe even....... learns how to do that dark and scary insecurity voice of his and one day She walks by the.... Reflection Chamber and Mirror Man is there in that way He Always Is in that seat he always sits in, and he says something very very odd to her!   he raises a finger and curls it in and says    come sit on my lap you haven’t gotten too big to sit on my lap have you?? come here!! and i mean Claire is still very very uncomfortable even being near him, and this feels like a trap, but i mean she can’t just say no, and there’s a part of her that’s kinda hoping... maybe he really is trying to be nice. and so she does and she sits with her but you’ll notice he is never looking directly at her. Even as she’s approaching literally right in his line of sight, he stares straight into her reflection, never her face.  It’s like she’s not even real unless she’s in those mirrors.

And he tells her he wants to do her makeup! yay! how fun! and he tells her to close her eyes and pout her lips and try not to flinch when the sculpting starts or he’ll use his deep voice-- and how he’s going to finally FIX her. Goody!! then maybe the constant barrage of insults and negs and criticisms will stop!! (p.s. they wouldn’t have )

And so she opens her eyes..... and the face of her abuser is looking right back. It’s her face. Or it used to be-- now it’s literally his and it’s hideous-- it does not AT ALL belong on that body, and the only thing left of her is her big shiny eyes

and she  S C R E A M S that way Claire does,,,

but this time, loud enough to crack the mirrors, and stun the dad just long enough for him not to catch her in his hands when she leaps off his lap and books it for the attic the attic, the view of the billboard with the same worn out, not updated ad for Opal’s in the window. She locks the door, it doesn’t take long for mirror man to come banging on it, telling her she’s ungrateful, she doesn’t deserve what little she has, taking back every nice thing he ever said, etc,,,

and Opal just starts clawing off the makeup/clay/whatever from her face in the mirror’s glass reflection, putting her hair back into the pigtails her father said made her look stupid

but she isn’t Opal, she’s changed, she’s aged, but Opal-- she’s always the same!! happy!! cared for!! and what is she supposed to be under the makeup? huh? Who is she besides the abuse she’s put through, that billboard and what it sells to her?  she doesn’t know! nobody does nobody ever bothered to get to know what it even means to be Claire.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Redeemed!Jungle AU where it's kind of awkward for Fushimi because he was sort of in a clan with them for a little while, but even WORSE yet, Yata's been tasked to work with them every so often, and while Yata will always remain loyal to Homra, Jungle has adopted him just a little bit? Hisui finds him amusing, and Yukari likes trying to prettify him, and Sukuna and him get along so easily, and Iwafune's just glad they're all getting along UwU

Honestly I think even in a redeemed jungle AU it would be hard for Yata to get along with them, just because of what they did to Mikoto and Totsuka. Maybe in this AU Hisui didn't actually have a direct hand in what Colorless was doing and instead more like just took advantage of the situation, like he knew what Colorless was up to but didn't assist him in any way and Colorless took over Hieda's body all on his own and figured out how to get on the airship by himself and all that. So now Yata's wariness with jungle is more that they mocked Totsuka and Mikoto's deaths and that they kidnapped Anna, which still makes him dislike them at first but then he's able to be slowly worn down by their actual willingness to admit their mistakes and want to do better and all that.

Naturally this is awkward for Fushimi, jungle forgives him for his whole fake betrayal act because they recognize that it was necessary to stop their misguided goals and they're fine if he wants to hang out (well, Hisui is and Yukari's probably chill with it, Sukuna not so much) but Fushimi doesn't particularly like going to see them or having to work with them. So he's a bit thrown off when it turns out that Yata gets along unexpectedly well with them, Fushimi assumed that Yata and Sukuna would dislike each other the way Sukuna is with him but instead the two of them have bonded over video games somehow and Yata keeps chatting about how fun it is to go down to jungle's headquarters and Fushimi should come some time. Hisui finds Yata interesting too, he thinks Yata would have enjoyed jungle and would have done well in gaining points and even though of course Yata is only loyal to Homra he's flattered by the suggestion. Fushimi finds himself irritated by that without being sure why, like hey I was in jungle too you know and it's not like he's feeling slighted or anything he just has to say it.

Then eventually Yata manages to help bridge the awkwardness between Fushimi and jungle, figuring that if he can forgive jungle and become friends with them Fushimi certainly can too. Fushimi still holds himself off to the side the first time he comes with Yata down to jungle's base but Hisui's all encouraging him to join in with them and Kotosaka wants to try his tasty tasty hair. Yukari then decides that if Saruhiko-chan doesn't want to play video games with the others that means it must be makeover time and Fushimi is immediately like right there with Yata and Sukuna all give me a damn controller.

[skruttet]

Extract from Notes from an Island

As a new item in the literary presentations series, I'm publishing a short translated extract from Notes from an Island (Anteckningar från en ö, Schildts, Helsinki, 1996), one of the last books by the Finland-Swedish author Tove Jansson (1914-2001) - most famous for her "Moomin" books for children, but also a distinguished writer of adult fiction. For over twenty years the small island of Klovharun, at the outermost tip of the Pellinge archipelago, about 80 kilometres east of Helsinki, the Finnish capital, and some 30 kilometres south of the town of Porvoo, was the summer home of the writer Tove Jansson and the artist Tuulikki Pietilä. This book is an account, by both women, of those years, in which they built a cottage on the island and then lived and worked there for considerable periods of time, away from “civilization”. The book is written in the style of a memoir with diary entries, and is illustrated with tinted drawings and watercolours by Tuulikki Pietilä. The early chapters describe the days during the early 1960s when the couple were exploring the Pellinge maritime region and found the small island where they decided to build their home. We are introduced to Brunström, the taciturn and opinionated local fisherman and workman who helps the two women in their search and gives them advice on building permission and other matters. With his colleague Sjöblom, Brunström is portrayed with humour as a character born from the surroundings and traditions of Finland’s small Swedish-speaking community – in some ways he could almost be a character from one of Tove Jansson’s Moomin books, which also mirror aspects of Finland-Swedish life, with its sense of a culture within a culture, the expression of a people without a homeland as such, but with a strong sense of ethnic and cultural identity, and a close affinity with nature. Some of the diary entries in the earlier part of the book are presented as being the work of Brunström himself. Tove Jansson describes the little island in detail, reflecting the way in which it represents all the aspects of Finnish nature in microcosm: the miniature forest, with paths, the exposed rock face, the central lake or lagoon, the seagulls and other birds, which the author portrays as being unhappy about the invasion of their living space by two human individuals. The construction of the house, which involves much blasting and dynamiting of rock, is recounted in detail, with copies of lists and surveyors’ notes, and Tove describes how she and Tuulikki conceived the plan for the building: it was to have windows facing all the points of the compass: “one for the great storms, one for the reflection of the moon in the lake, one for the hill with its moss and polyps, and one facing north ‘so we can see what may come sailing along and so have time to get used to it.’” One chapter describes the experience of watching the great break-up of the sea ice in springtime, and one receives a sense of the tiny world of the island as part of a huge natural universe of movement. The timelessness of the place is evident – and yet always the two women impress their creative skills on their environment, turning a remote and deserted rock-face into a workshop of artistic endeavour, without ever spoiling the harmony and equilibrium of the landscape and its creatures. We follow their day-to-day life, with its constant struggle with the elements, as when the sea carries away their entire supply of firewood, its trips to nearby communities for the essentials of life, its lists of supplies and tools, its outboard motors and above all the boat Victoria, which suffers shipwreck one stormy night, at the book’s climax. In addition to being a miniature tour de force of autobiographical “desert island” writing, Notes from an Island is also an important document that gives an insight into some of the existential sources of Tove Jansson’s literary talent. In particular, we begin to understand from within how the world of the Moomins developed, as we follow the author’s deep and intuitive relation to the place and the living creatures that inhabit and frequent it – the gull Pellura, the seabirds, the local people, the postman, the cat, and so on. The illustrations by Tuulikki Pietilä complete the evocation of this world, that is at once very real and concrete and yet also suffused with a strange, muted, almost fairytale-like radiance. __________________________________________ from NOTES FROM AN ISLAND 1. I love stone: the cliff that falls straight into the sea, the rocky hill too steep to climb, the pebble in my pocket, prising stones from the ground and heaving them up and rolling the biggest ones straight down the hill into the sea! Down they rumble, leaving behind an acrid smell of sulphur. Searching for stones to build with, or simply stones that are beautiful, in order to make mosaics, bastions, terraces, pillars, smoke ovens, or strange, unusable contraptions made just for the sake of it; building jetties that the sea will take away next autumn; building more wisely next time, though the sea will take it all away again. My father was a sculptor, but Tooti’s was a carpenter, and that’s why she loves working in wood, whether it’s shifting magnificent, heavy planks about or playing with feather-light balsa. In the forest we searched for juniper wood. On the shore we sometimes found strange, hardy species of trees with unfamiliar names. Tooti used them to make small objects that need time and great patience – why not make the smallest salt-spoon that has ever been made? ‘But,’ says Tooti, ‘it’s quite different when you build on a large scale, you have to be resolute and absolutely sure of your ability to measure and calculate and make it all work out to the last centimetre. Or millimetre. ‘Sometimes building is done in order to hold and make steady, and other times it’s in order to decorate: sometimes it’s both.’ Incidentally, Tooti’s engravings are done in pear-wood or beech, her woodcuts mostly in birch. She would often discuss materials with Albert Gustafsson in his boatshed on Pellinge; they also chatted about boats. He gave her suitable pieces of teak and mahogany to play around with, and Tooti took them all home with her and thought up ideas that were totally new. It was Albert who made the boat, in 1962, from mahogany, four metres long and clinker-built. It was the most beautiful boat that had ever been seen on that whole stretch of the coast. She was strong and supple, and positively danced on a heavy sea, her name was Victoria, as both Tooti’s father and mine were called Victor. Gradually, as the summers went by, Victoria became more and more Tooti’s as she was the one who loved the boat most and looked after it with the utmost care. There are many names for what we call an island: holm, skerry, haru, islet, atoll. The map of Pellinge shows an arc of uninhabited skerries west of Glosholm; they may be connected with a ridge of random formations on the sea bed. Kummelskär is the largest and most beautiful pearl in the necklace. I was very small when I decided to be the lighthouse keeper on Kummelskär. While it is true that there’s only one lighthouse there, I planned to build a much larger one, an enormous lighthouse that would be able to survey and supervise the whole of the eastern Gulf of Finland – when I was grown-up and rich, of course. Gradually, my dream of the unattainable changed, and turned into a game with the possible; eventually it was just a cussed obstinacy that refused to give up, until the Fishermen’s Guild made no bones about the matter and said quite simply that it would disturb the salmon, and that was that. But about two and a half nautical miles from Kummelskär, in towards the coast, there were small islands that no one really knew anything about, and there it was possible to rent land. Remarkable that such a major and long drawn out disappointment could so quickly be forgotten for a new infatuation, but so it was – almost as soon as we moved in, we felt that we’d discovered paradise. We prettified and ruined with the same high spirits; we had everything, if only in miniature: a little forest with a forest path and moss, a little sandy shore with safety for the boat, even a little marsh with some tufts of cotton grass – we were proud of the island! And we wanted to be admired, to show off, we lured people there and they came, and came back, summer after summer, more and more of them. Sometimes they would bring a friend with them, or sometimes the loss of a friend, and they would talk and talk about their yearning for the simple, the primitive; and above all, their yearning for solitude. Gradually the island became filled with people. Tooti and I began to think about moving further out to sea. We made a half-hearted attempt with Kummelskär, but they said we would disturb the cod. After Kummelskär come Musblötan, Käringskrevan and Bisaball, small inaccessible skerries where only fishermen and hunters can think of landing, and last in the series Klovharun, i.e. a haru (rocky island) that has split (cloven) in two. That was where we wanted to live. The island has an area of about six or seven thousand square metres, is shaped like an atoll with a lagoon in the middle, and is surrounded by rocks; at low tide the lagoon becomes a lake. It is said that at one time seals used the lagoon as a playground; that was before they thought the better of it and moved further out to sea. On the map, these smaller, almost outcast islands are marked as state property, but that is not true at all. The fact is that according to certain records, at some time in the eighteenth century, there was once a stormy committee meeting connected with the Land Reform; perhaps the conflict was put on hold because the secretary was prevented from attending the meeting by the icy conditions on the roads, but whatever the truth of the matter the islands were hastily registered as part of the community of Pellinge; ‘an indeterminate population, with no precise details.’ As time passed, the community had grown considerably, and now it seemed it was no longer possible for us to apply for permission to lease land on Haru. However, like so many other islands with a will of their own, Pellinge had its own prophet whom one could ask for advice on difficult matters concerning the internal affairs of the group of islands. He advised us not to raise our hopes too high and above all not to depend on legal documents that sooner or later might only cause problems – no lease, therefore, but perhaps a small donation to the Fishermen’s Guild. Take it as it comes, he said, put up a list in Söderby for people to enter ‘yes’ or ‘no’ – if I put ‘yes’ everyone else will probably do likewise. We put up the ‘yes or no’ list on the veranda door of the village shop and everyone put ‘yes’. We sent the list to Porvoo Council and applied for building permission. While we waited, we lived on Klovharun in a tent. It rained all the time, Tooti was reading part six of The Vicomte de Bragelonne, by Alexandre Dumas. ‘There’s nothing like the classics,’ she said. ‘Read Les Misérables, unabridged, and then you’ll understand the meaning of loyalty.’ I know that Tooti is loyal to what she trusts, even afterwards. We had pitched our tent too close to the Great Stone, which is so great that it has become a landmark, at least for people who are finding their way more or less from hearsay. The Stone was estimated to weigh approximately fifty tons. It lies in an enormous frog pond in the only place where one could think of building beyond the reach of the sea. It rained all week, and the frog pond overflowed and trickled past down the hill past our tent and stank horribly. We dreamt of what the cottage would look like. It would have four windows, one in each wall. In the south east we made room for the great storms that rage in across the island, in the east the moon would be able to reflect itself in the lagoon, and in the west there would be a rocky wall with moss and polyps. To the north one had to be able to keep a lookout for anything that might come along, and have time to get used to it. We thought that if we built a cottage it ought to be quite high up the hill, but not right at the top, as that was the place for the beacon – perhaps just below the brow of the hill, so that the chimney would be visible from the sea. Against the light, in other words, and to those boats that stray past for no reason. Late one night we heard an engine being turned off down on the shore, and someone with a flashlight came slowly up the hill. He introduced himself. Brunström from Kråkö. Brunström was out salmon fishing and had been planning to sleep the night in his boat when he saw lights on the island. We made tea on the primus stove. Brunström is quite small. He has a taut, weather-bitten face and blue eyes, his movements are swift but measured, and he never uses adjectives in his everyday talk. His boat has no name. We trusted him, immediately. Brunström had heard about the ‘yes or no’ list. ‘It will never get through, he said, not even in Porvoo where they take life rather easy, take things as they come, as it were. You’ll never get permission to build. The only thing you can do is start building immediately. It’ll take the authorities ages to agree about what they want, and that’s where you have to watch out. The law says that nothing can be demolished if the builder’s got the frame up to the roof-tree. Believe me, said Brunström, I know about these things. I’ve built cabins in next to no time here and there, just in order to annoy people in the neighbourhood – folk from Pernå and Pellinge, for example.’ Brunström went on to explain that he didn’t need very much time, though one never knows with the autumn weather. He’d take Sjöblom with him and perhaps Charlie and Helmer, and before anything else, the Great Stone must be blasted with dynamite. Brunström says that blasting and basements don’t count as proper building, the house has to have a frame and the frame won’t last the winter without a roof. So there is not much time. ‘Before the snow,’ he says. translated by David McDuff

[fyeahoriginaltitans]

When Titans gets pissed

THIS POST with scans where Nightwing gets so pissed that he seals himself inside a cave has become quite popular, so let’s talk about the story it is from.

In issue 15 from the early 2000s Titans series, the original Teen Titans (AKA the Fabulous Five) had a rough period and were kinda pissed at each other. So Donna decided that a little camping trip would do them good, a team building exercise if you will.

So they went to a nice little deserted island where they had to work together to put up camp. But it didn’t go very well since everyone was on edge, Donna clumsily killed their campfire, it began to rain and storm Garth accidentally froze the entire jet they came with, making it impossible for the Fab 5 to leave. And then, since they were alone and getting in each others’ faces, they began telling each other why they were pissed at each other, which made them even more on edge and stressed.

Roy had this thing where he made fish or water related jokes about Garth and even splashed water on him, and that pissed off Garth since he thought that Roy thought less of him since, when they were kids, Garth had to get hydrated often in order not to die, making him somewhat the less effective Teen Titan. Roy tried to apologize and explain that he meant no harm, but Garth took a cheap shot at Roy by calling weak since he used to be a junkie.

Donna was pissed at Wally since she had recently been revived, partly thanks to Wally. But the problem was that she was partly brought back because of Wally’s memories of her, and even though Wally and Donna might be great friends, he doesn’t know much about her private life AND Wally used to put her on a pedestal. So Donna worried that Wally had turned her into some over-perfect over-nice prettified version based on his teen-crush memories.

Donna decided to have a talk with Roy about their relationship DURING THE MIDDLE OF A STORM. They were dating at that time, but Donna was unsure if there were an actual future in their romance.. and then she was dumb enough to ask Roy how Lian would react “WHEN THEY BREAK UP”. Roy didn’t take that comment very well.

And EVERYONE was pissed at Nightwing since he is the leader and it is so easy to hack on him. And Dick got defensive and even tried to build a leanto in the middle of the storm while Garth, Wally and Roy called him Batboy and told him stuff like “BATMAN would have done it better” just to piss Dick even more off.

And it worked, since Dick finally snaps and... Well...

So, kinda stupid of Dick since he was SEALED INSIDE A CAVE!

And even more stupid when Dick was face to face with the Teen Titans’ first villain who had been pushing the Fab Five’s buttons in order to make them bicker so much... THE GARGOYLE!

The Gargoyle used to be Mr. Twister, the first villain the Titans took care of. But after being trapped in Limbo(long story) Mr. Twister became the demon known as Gargoyle. With his demonic powers, Gargoyle manipulated the five original Titans in order to make their petty arguments go way over edge in order to trap them in Limbo with him. Sure, they were pissed at each other to begin with, but Gargoyle threw gasoline on the flames so to say. After getting them stuck in Limbo, Gargoyle turned the Titans into teenagers again in an attempt to make them as mentally vulnerable as possible so that they would stay conflicted and be unable to ever get out of their spiritual prison.

Dick took charge as usual, and believed that the only way to get them free from Gargoyle’s limbo would be by apologizing and moving on... but that did jack shit.

What DID free them all was Roy having had enough and then he PUNCHED Dick right in the kisser. THAT freed them all.

Limbo is all about being stuck. And saying you are sorry and then “move on” is just another way of being stuck in a bad situation since you are still pissed, but you are trying to be polite and act like nothing. Roy punched Dick, thus getting a release from his frustrations he has toward Dick, and they were free from Limbo.

[hadarlaskey]

Back Roads

It would appear that Alex Pettyfer has something to prove, and not just as a director. A longtime fixture in such stymied would-be blockbusters as Stormbreaker, I Am Number Four, and Beastly, the career actor wants to show the world that he’s got a creative streak of his own meant for a fuller degree of artistic authority.

Having logged his time in productions inviting the modification of Pettyfer to Prettyface, he’s prepared to forge his own path through the industry as his own man. “I was disillusioned by Hollywood, but now I’ve come to accept that’s just the way things are: it’s called show business, not show art,” he said in a 2011 interview.

What’s more, he evinces a drive to prove that he’s capable of being a Serious Cineaste, the sort of helmer ready to handle mature themes like rape, incest, and rural poverty. In his first outing on both sides of the camera, he gestures towards Andrea Arnold’s miserablism on display in Fish Tank and – perhaps more accurately, considering the transatlantic vantage point on the culture of the States – American Honey.

Pettyfer, a fashion model from age seven born into a family of actors, won’t be seen as a bubblehead. He will play the world’s most conspicuously handsome adult virgin without any de-prettifying measures, and he’ll do his damnedest to make us believe it.

He gets his big chance with Back Roads, an adaptation of the Oprah-approved Tawni O’Dell’s play about the Atlmeyer clan of Sadness Junction, Pennsylvania. (Adrian Lyne prepped the script for the screen, explaining the lurid atmosphere teetering on the edge of quasi-intentional comedy.) Long story short, Mom (Juliette Lewis) shot Dad after one night of abuse too many, leaving Harley (Pettyfer) to look after his sexually precocious teen sister Amber (Nicola Peltz) and his normally precocious kid sister Misty (Chiara Aurelia).

As they all lick their post-traumatic psychical wounds, Amber fucks anything that fogs a mirror while the deeply repressed Harley finds comfort in the arms of an older woman (Jennifer Morrison). The events that follow will visit more tragedy upon them while clarifying the true nature of that one fateful night, both of which send the characters into emotional terrain that Pettyfer cannot traverse.

The welterweight is punching way above his class, laid out by material of howling, skeleton-to-soul feeling that demands a director of great control and restraint to be executed successfully. Like so many actors making an entrée to directing, Pettyfer places far too much trust in his cast, giving them the free rein that every performer dreams about.

Lewis screams from behind prison glass like a pachyderm shot with a dart, while Peltz locates a midway point between Lolita and a Nomi Malone not in on the joke of Showgirls. Pettyfer saves the grand finale for himself, turning the climactic moment of epiphany in therapy into something uncomfortable, then hilarious, then sad for all the wrong reasons.

Though hidden for two years from UK viewers more invested in the arc of Pettyfer’s career, this film now stands as a testament to hubris, an inverse vanity through which a star declares their own depth and sensitivity by placing themselves in an unflattering light. Without the discipline required to pull off this pose, it rings just as hollow as shameless self-flattery.

That may sound harsh, but at least Pettyfer’s tastes, shortcomings and unflagging belief in himself leave a radioactive glow that comes only from the most reliably engrossing strain of failure: the misguided passion project, that unsupervised playpen in which no one can stop the pursuit of a bad idea to its completion.

The post Back Roads appeared first on Little White Lies.

source https://lwlies.com/reviews/back-roads/

[ellipsesarefun]

Hey if you still do drabbles, could you do 4."It's always been you. You and only you"(hope I remembered correctly) for Tododeku?

I’m really sorry it took a long time to finish :( I really hope this is to your liking…

Prompts:

#4. “It’s always been you. You and only you.”

 and I hope you don’t mind me adding Crush prompt

maybe in another life

“So, any crushes from high school?”

It’s rare to have a free day such as this. The weeks have been corroded with thefts and murder cases across the city that there is little time to take a step back and unwind away from the heavy burdens of their pro-hero work.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens on a Saturday afternoon. At least sometimes, Todoroki muses. Instead of lounging on the couch for a two-hour marathon special, he and Midoriya have been spending their afternoon on the floor with a scrabble set splayed apart and a bowl of sickenly sweet popcorn.

“Weird question.” Todoroki comments as he grabs another spoonful of the sugary goodness to chew on. A smile flashes on his friend’s freckled face. Todoroki patiently stares back, idly noting the smooth tanned skin near Midoriya’s collarbone.

“A weird question you seem to be avoiding.” Midoriya fires back, and Todoroki’s gaze stray down to the fiddling fingers on his All Might shirt. He traces the scars with his eyes, his mind replaying Midoriya’s frequent visits to the Recovery Girl, bandaged all around. In some daydream, Todoroki would’ve reached out to erase them, but his hands lay still by the popcorn bowl, twitching at the thought.

“I don’t recall having any crush on anyone.” He says while his thoughts screen the moments of watching Midoriya from afar. He takes another bite of popcorn.

Midoriya hums, contemplative, jade eyes scintillating with curiosity. Whatever gibberish wheels through his head, Todoroki hopes his secret remains a secret. Unspoken.

“And you’re sure about that?” Midoriya asks, gaze still lingering on him, unreadable, meticulous, calculating. Todoroki lets his chewing fill the gaps of his silence. The images that ebb within him are clandestine; locked in infinite combinations, changing so often throughout the years of his short life. Todoroki averts his eyes away, impelling his vision to fixate on the yellow-faded snacks on the bowl.

“Yes.” He answers, but his thoughts scream “No”. That string of hypothetical conversation would lead to more probing questions. Such questions would lead to an unknowable, unpredictable path; a path he doesn’t dare himself to dwell for long.

“Did you?” Todoroki prompts, stirring the conversation away from his wanton emotions in his head. Midoriya laughs, like bell chimes in the wind. In another life, Midoriya–Izuku would take his hand and lace their fingers with unmitigated affection. Here, Todoroki notes the centimeter distance between their fingers on the floor.

“Yea, small crushes here and there.” Midoriya replies before he brings a cup of water to his lips, and it takes a small fraction of a second for Todoroki to look away before he’s caught in the act of gazing for too long. This was just how any other day in Yuuei plays. Midoriya rambles on and he stares for more than a friend should.

“There’s Uraraka.” He continues, laughing, “That was really awkward! I couldn’t even muster the courage to say anything to her!“ Todoroki knows. All the late night pep talks of how cute she is, all the rough drafts of poems, proses and missives, all the muttering and the staring burns in the back of his memories. He takes another bite of popcorn to erase any lingering thoughts on the matter and waits.

“There’s Shinsou.” Midoriya mumbles, idly lingering his eyes on the scrabble board, “That was such a wonderful time.” He mumbles as though the name he utters was as soft as the hair he once wrote in a haiku. It was yet another year of three in the morning hot chocolate sessions and eye bags full of pining that Todoroki has in his list.

Midoriya and Shinsou’s relationship was silent, wordless, with gentle smiles thrown at each other’s way and secret notes passed in each other’s locker. Todoroki always notes the monticule of papers stacked in Midoriya’s desk on nights when he visits his home. He has his own stack of missives, but left in the back of his pocket and later burned the years after their graduation.

“There were others..“ He trails off. And that was true. There were a list of others. It was a long queue towards Izuku and Todoroki is always the last in line, the only one waiting for the ride that never comes.

Todoroki isn’t sure if he’s still waiting by the side walk or he’s left his spot a long time ago. he still has a ticket of his wistful daydreams of Izuku and it never once disappeared from his thoughts. Even now, when he’s a few feet away from him in a mundane day like this. Izuku doesn’t have any fleeting dalliance and neither does he. Maybe this is his chance. If he could just bring himself to say out loud..

“You sure you don’t have any buried and embarrassing crushes, Todoroki?” Midoriya asks, and Todoroki swears there’s something more than what was asked because there seemed to be a a door wide open for him. He’s still wrapped in his own uncertainty and remains standing only a good few feet away from it. In another life, there would have been no hesitation in taking his hand and repeatedly kissing his knuckles, with a line of prettifying words and another sweet chaste of lips.

“None.” is the word that falls from his lips, but the image of his other self from another life never stops playing. His other self would have said, “Yes” and he would have professed Izuku’s name in a string of melodies that Todoroki could never hum in this life.

“Alright then,” the Midoriya at his present side merely laughs, and Todoroki wonders the strain on his voice, “No need to ponder too much over the past.” He stands, somewhat awkwardly, and walks off toward the kitchen to open the refrigerator.

Still, the other life keeps swirling in Todoroki’s mind, drowning him in Izuku’s jocund guffaws, the scintillating jade eyes focused on him, prompting, “Really?”

“It wasn’t just the ‘you’re cute’ kind of crush…” The other Todoroki–Shouto’s lips move against the callous phallanges, dropping one last kiss. There was a question in Izuku’s eyes, information new to him.

“It wasn’t?” Izuku prompts, taking his hand from Shouto’s grasp to cup his cheeks. Shouto shuts his eyes, feeling the warmth emanating from the palm of his lover.

“It was the ‘I see the stars in your eyes’ kind of crush. The ‘I can’t sleep when I think of you” crush. The ‘I want to put a ring on your finger’ crush. I don’t think it was just a crush. You were my first love.“ It was sappy and uncharacteristic but that would’ve placed a smile on Midoriya’s face, as it did with Izuku’s. Shouto ends his spiel by opening his eyes to bask himself under Izuku’s affection.

“Has it always been like this?” Izuku asks another question, voice gentle and vulnerable. Todoroki’s chest aches with longing as Shouto brings his lips to the side of his hand, as though only a handful of kisses isn’t enough.

“It’s always been you.” Shouto says, finally, “You and only you.” The scene ends with their lips pressed together, basking in wondrous, and unbelievable affection. The other life fades away, only a tiny presence lingering in his aching chest.

Now, at the present moment, Midoriya comes back with a liter bottle of soda and two glasses in his hands, where Shouto’s hands would’ve stayed. He sits down, friendly smile on his face (unlike the one filled with adoration), pours the drink on each glass, and the two returned to their game of puzzles.

As though nothing was amiss.

I’m sorry this really took a long time to write!! I have two other requests from a different source of prompt collection.

I”m also open for prompts such as this, if you want! Here’s a list of prompts where this one originated and you can ask me one on TodoDeku, maybe bakushima and momojirou as well. might take awhile but I try to write in my free time or while I’m editing my thesis.. and it’s a good breathe of fresh air to do so

[pangamoviee]

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Rooted in the real world, Panga features a glamorised Kangana Ranaut in the role of a retired kabaddi player who returns to the sport after a seven-year hiatus and inevitably runs into a series of challenges. The film’s central premise has undeniable potential but it would have come to naught had the treatment not been as sure-footed. Panga Full Movie Download 480p HD Tamilrockers, 123mkv Filmywap, Watch Online, Pagalworld, mp4movies, movierulz, khatrimaza, utorrent with torrent magnet, filmyzilla download.

The intelligently scripted, deftly directed and well-acted sports drama is peopled by characters who are easy to relate to. Unlike average Bollywood films of the genre, Panga does not ever strain credulity even when one might feel that it could have done with a little more momentum. The deliberate pacing ultimately does no harm. It, in fact, keeps the audience from taking their eyes off the crux of the tale.

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Director Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari (Nil Battey Sannata, Bareilly Ki Barfi) stays true to the small-town, middle-class moorings of a narrative that banks more upon small gestures of defiance and daring than on grand flourishes and bluster. Working with a script she has co-written with Nikhil Mehrotra and additional screenplay inputs and dialogues from Nitesh Tiwari, she crafts a tale that does not sacrifice authenticity for flashy plot sleights or thrills of a superficial nature.

Even when the film’s key character. Jaya Nigam (Ranaut), is tantalizingly close to realising her dream of representing India again, the film does not overreach in the pursuit of high drama. It is an uphill trek for Jaya as she negotiates blips along the way. There are times when she seems incapable of pulling it off, which makes her endeavour all the more engaging.

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Panga also scores handsomely for the manner in which the crucial kabaddi sequences are mounted and choreographed (by national-level player Gauri Wadekar). Rarely do sports scenes in Hindi cinema look as natural they do in Panga. A large part of the credit should also accrue to the actors led by Ranaut - they never look out of place on the kabaddi court. The role fits the female lead to absolute perfection and there isn’t a single false note in her performance.

The film steers clear of overt melodrama and weaves the story of a mother making a comeback to a physically exacting game around tangible struggles stemming from her professional and personal responsibilities. In Jaya’s absence from her Bhopal home, her husband Prashant (Jassi Gill) struggles to produce passable aloo parathas for breakfast and draws a stinging rebuke from their son Aditya (Yagya Bhasin). He also makes a complete hash of giving the boy the look of a tiger for his school’s annual day.

The family lives in a modest government accommodation and the production design team makes no effort to overly prettify the space. The actions captured within are also shorn of artifice. It has the looks of a live-in home, not of a gleaming designer pad. In one passing scene, Prashant dunks a cookie in his tea while Adi, spread-eagled on the sofa, licks the cream off a biscuit as Jay I. Patel’s camera captures the ‘spectacle’ unblinkered.

By refraining from projecting the protagonist as an infallible superheroine who takes the hurdles in her way head-on and triumphs, Panga stays firmly in the realms of a plausible tale even as it drives home the sheer audacity of the leap of faith made by a woman trapped, partly of her own volition and partly due to the pressures of motherhood, in dreary domesticity.

The slow-burn approach allows aspects Jaya’s character to seep into the ‘action’ scenes - they are all restricted to the kabaddi court and the practice arena - and lend them both genuineness and power. The challenges of the working woman’s role as mother to a seven-year-old boy with poor immunity and the distance that she has traversed since quitting kabaddi at her peak are channelled fruitfully into her efforts to reclaim lost glory in the face of familial and societal expectations.

Her unwaveringly supportive husband represents masculinity of a kind that Mumbai movies rarely celebrate, let alone showcase. Panga goes all out to show us the strength of a man who subsumes his ambitions into those of his wife and throws his lot behind her when opportunity knocks on her door. Jaya has to leave Bhopal, where the former India captain and feted raider is a now rail ticket booking clerk, and move to Kolkata to join a newfangled Eastern Railways team. No praise could be too high for Jassi Gill’s performance. He immerses himself so completely into the character it is difficult to imagine any actor playing it better.

दिल से देखे गए सपने अधूरे रह जाए तो उनकी कसक जिंदगी भर दिल में रह जाती है. लेकिन इन सपनों को पूरा करने का मौका मिले तो पंगा लेना जरूर चाहिए, इस बात को बिना सोचे की जीत होगी या हार. ऐसी ही कहानी लेकर आई हैं कंगना रनौत, जिसका नाम है पंगा. 24 जनवरी को रिलीज हुई फिल्म पंगा कहानी है जया निगम की.

जया रेलवे की तरफ से कबड्डी खेलने वाली प्लेयर रही हैं. लेकिन अब वो रेलवे में टिकट काटने का काम करती हैं. वो ऐसी प्लेयर थी, जिसके लिए पूरी टीम कहती है कि प्लेयर आते जाते हैं लेकिन जया निगम जैसे स्टार प्लेयर कम ही आते हैं. जया के शानदार खेल की वजह से उसे कई बड़े मौके मिलते हैं. इसी बीच उसे जीवन साथी भी मिल जाता है प्रशांत (जस्सी गिल). प्रशांत और जया की लव स्टोरी दो तीन सीन तक चलती है और फिर जया की मां (नीना गुप्ता) से मंजूरी मिलते ही दोनों की शादी हो जाती है. लेकिन, शादी की एक शर्त होती है कि जया को प्रशांत शादी के बाद भी कबड्डी खेलने देगा.

Panga isn’t the sort of Bollywood sports film in which the protagonist is a cocky, invincible smooth-talker who bulldozes her way through without a care in the world. Jaya has to reckon with a slew of obstacles. Her son needs constant monitoring owing to his medical condition. Her husband, also a Railways employee, has no clue how to keep the household running when the onus falls on him. Just as important, Jaya is no longer a sprightly 25-year-old. Her reflexes have slowed down. Her body is no longer in shape. Her spirit is willing, but her mind keeps telling that she might be venturing into rough terrain.

Jaya’s mother (Neena Gupta) is the first to warn her about the foolhardiness of her move. But a former teammate and talent scout Meenu (Richa Chadha), after initial friendly scepticism, steps up to help her friend achieve her goal. And finally, Jaya shares a room with a younger girl, Nisha (Megha Burman), who eggs her on and stands by her when the chips are down.

Only once does the conflict assume an external dimension in the form of the current India captain Smita (Smita Tambe), who has no love lost for Jaya. The former has reason to suspect that the 32-year-old is on her team only to warm the benches and return home with a gold medal from the Asian Kabaddi Championships without slogging it out on the court. The national coach (Rajesh Tailang), on his part, makes no bones about why he needs Jaya to be included in the squad. Extraneous, somewhat cynical reasons are cited for her selection, which puts both the player and her family under undue stress.

[panga-movie]

Panga Full Movie Download Tamilrockers, 123mkv 480p HD | Watch Online

Rooted in the real world, Panga features a glamorised Kangana Ranaut in the role of a retired kabaddi player who returns to the sport after a seven-year hiatus and inevitably runs into a series of challenges. The film’s central premise has undeniable potential but it would have come to naught had the treatment not been as sure-footed. Panga Full Movie Download 480p HD Tamilrockers, 123mkv Filmywap, Watch Online, Pagalworld, mp4movies, movierulz, khatrimaza, utorrent with torrent magnet, filmyzilla download.

The intelligently scripted, deftly directed and well-acted sports drama is peopled by characters who are easy to relate to. Unlike average Bollywood films of the genre, Panga does not ever strain credulity even when one might feel that it could have done with a little more momentum. The deliberate pacing ultimately does no harm. It, in fact, keeps the audience from taking their eyes off the crux of the tale.

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Director Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari (Nil Battey Sannata, Bareilly Ki Barfi) stays true to the small-town, middle-class moorings of a narrative that banks more upon small gestures of defiance and daring than on grand flourishes and bluster. Working with a script she has co-written with Nikhil Mehrotra and additional screenplay inputs and dialogues from Nitesh Tiwari, she crafts a tale that does not sacrifice authenticity for flashy plot sleights or thrills of a superficial nature.

Even when the film’s key character. Jaya Nigam (Ranaut), is tantalizingly close to realising her dream of representing India again, the film does not overreach in the pursuit of high drama. It is an uphill trek for Jaya as she negotiates blips along the way. There are times when she seems incapable of pulling it off, which makes her endeavour all the more engaging.

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Panga also scores handsomely for the manner in which the crucial kabaddi sequences are mounted and choreographed (by national-level player Gauri Wadekar). Rarely do sports scenes in Hindi cinema look as natural they do in Panga. A large part of the credit should also accrue to the actors led by Ranaut - they never look out of place on the kabaddi court. The role fits the female lead to absolute perfection and there isn’t a single false note in her performance.

The film steers clear of overt melodrama and weaves the story of a mother making a comeback to a physically exacting game around tangible struggles stemming from her professional and personal responsibilities. In Jaya’s absence from her Bhopal home, her husband Prashant (Jassi Gill) struggles to produce passable aloo parathas for breakfast and draws a stinging rebuke from their son Aditya (Yagya Bhasin). He also makes a complete hash of giving the boy the look of a tiger for his school’s annual day.

The family lives in a modest government accommodation and the production design team makes no effort to overly prettify the space. The actions captured within are also shorn of artifice. It has the looks of a live-in home, not of a gleaming designer pad. In one passing scene, Prashant dunks a cookie in his tea while Adi, spread-eagled on the sofa, licks the cream off a biscuit as Jay I. Patel’s camera captures the ‘spectacle’ unblinkered.

By refraining from projecting the protagonist as an infallible superheroine who takes the hurdles in her way head-on and triumphs, Panga stays firmly in the realms of a plausible tale even as it drives home the sheer audacity of the leap of faith made by a woman trapped, partly of her own volition and partly due to the pressures of motherhood, in dreary domesticity.

The slow-burn approach allows aspects Jaya’s character to seep into the 'action’ scenes - they are all restricted to the kabaddi court and the practice arena - and lend them both genuineness and power. The challenges of the working woman’s role as mother to a seven-year-old boy with poor immunity and the distance that she has traversed since quitting kabaddi at her peak are channelled fruitfully into her efforts to reclaim lost glory in the face of familial and societal expectations.

Her unwaveringly supportive husband represents masculinity of a kind that Mumbai movies rarely celebrate, let alone showcase. Panga goes all out to show us the strength of a man who subsumes his ambitions into those of his wife and throws his lot behind her when opportunity knocks on her door. Jaya has to leave Bhopal, where the former India captain and feted raider is a now rail ticket booking clerk, and move to Kolkata to join a newfangled Eastern Railways team. No praise could be too high for Jassi Gill’s performance. He immerses himself so completely into the character it is difficult to imagine any actor playing it better.

दिल से देखे गए सपने अधूरे रह जाए तो उनकी कसक जिंदगी भर दिल में रह जाती है. लेकिन इन सपनों को पूरा करने का मौका मिले तो पंगा लेना जरूर चाहिए, इस बात को बिना सोचे की जीत होगी या हार. ऐसी ही कहानी लेकर आई हैं कंगना रनौत, जिसका नाम है पंगा. 24 जनवरी को रिलीज हुई फिल्म पंगा कहानी है जया निगम की.

जया रेलवे की तरफ से कबड्डी खेलने वाली प्लेयर रही हैं. लेकिन अब वो रेलवे में टिकट काटने का काम करती हैं. वो ऐसी प्लेयर थी, जिसके लिए पूरी टीम कहती है कि प्लेयर आते जाते हैं लेकिन जया निगम जैसे स्टार प्लेयर कम ही आते हैं. जया के शानदार खेल की वजह से उसे कई बड़े मौके मिलते हैं. इसी बीच उसे जीवन साथी भी मिल जाता है प्रशांत (जस्सी गिल). प्रशांत और जया की लव स्टोरी दो तीन सीन तक चलती है और फिर जया की मां (नीना गुप्ता) से मंजूरी मिलते ही दोनों की शादी हो जाती है. लेकिन, शादी की एक शर्त होती है कि जया को प्रशांत शादी के बाद भी कबड्डी खेलने देगा.

Panga isn’t the sort of Bollywood sports film in which the protagonist is a cocky, invincible smooth-talker who bulldozes her way through without a care in the world. Jaya has to reckon with a slew of obstacles. Her son needs constant monitoring owing to his medical condition. Her husband, also a Railways employee, has no clue how to keep the household running when the onus falls on him. Just as important, Jaya is no longer a sprightly 25-year-old. Her reflexes have slowed down. Her body is no longer in shape. Her spirit is willing, but her mind keeps telling that she might be venturing into rough terrain.

Jaya’s mother (Neena Gupta) is the first to warn her about the foolhardiness of her move. But a former teammate and talent scout Meenu (Richa Chadha), after initial friendly scepticism, steps up to help her friend achieve her goal. And finally, Jaya shares a room with a younger girl, Nisha (Megha Burman), who eggs her on and stands by her when the chips are down.

Only once does the conflict assume an external dimension in the form of the current India captain Smita (Smita Tambe), who has no love lost for Jaya. The former has reason to suspect that the 32-year-old is on her team only to warm the benches and return home with a gold medal from the Asian Kabaddi Championships without slogging it out on the court. The national coach (Rajesh Tailang), on his part, makes no bones about why he needs Jaya to be included in the squad. Extraneous, somewhat cynical reasons are cited for her selection, which puts both the player and her family under undue stress.

[robotsandromance-blog]

I have this complicated HC that if Knockout ever had a son or daughter, he would prep and prettify them so much. Make sure that their paint and wax are always maintained, and decorate them with the finest crystals on special occation. Its more or less him wanting his child having the luxury he and Breakdown never got to had, so Its not like hes trying to control them. They would always be his and his conjux's little bitlet. Plus if the child was a pacifist, he and BD wouldnt force them fight.

#knockoutforbestdad

No, but, Knockout has always been a personal favorite of mine. He and Breakdown’s kid would probably be one of the safest in that time and age; and even though he’d spoil the FUCK out of them, he’d still teach them with the morals that are hard to find in a regrowing society. He wants his little starry-opticed bitlet to grow up to be a strong, respectable ‘bot; with a childhood they can remember fondly. Something Knockout wishes he had himself.