#{(SO THERE YA GO)}

[carnevol]

Benny Cross (The Bikeriders) | Jax Teller (Sons of Anarchy)

for @imaginaryplaythings 💕

[xyywrites]

Not sure if you take asks like these, but could you tell me

how do I describe a character waking up from a nightmare?

Sure, I take asks. I love asks. As for your question,

Nightmare, oh nightmares. Such a raw experience to capture in writing. Can't say I'm an expert in writing them, but I sure read plenty. Enough to be able to recognize some patters. Here's the breakdown:

Physical Reactions

Short ragged gasps of air.

A pounding heart, hammering against the ribcage.

Cold sweat trickling down the temples or clinging to their back.

Shaking hands, trembling fingers clutching the sheets.

A tightness in the chest

Bolting upright, body rigid with tension.

Clenched fists, nails digging into their palms.

Taut and aching muscles.

Eyes frantically searching/probing the surroundings for threats.

Sensory Details

The bitter taste of bile rising in the throat.

The echo of their own scream still ringing in their ears.

The oppressive darkness of the room. (if its dark)

A chill creeping up their spine, despite the warmth of their blankets.

The sound of their heartbeat, loud and frantic, drowning out all else.

The texture of damp sheets sticking to their skin.

Emotional Responses

A surge of panic, clawing its way up their chest.

A desperate need for reassurance

Confusion, caught between dream and reality.

A crushing sense of helplessness

Shame or embarrassment for being so rattled.

Residual fear, as though the nightmare could still harm them.

Anger at their own vulnerability.

Isolation, the feeling that no one else could understand.

Relief when they realize it wasn’t real, but it feels hollow.

A sense of foreboding, as if the nightmare was a warning.

Actions

Clutching their chest as if to steady their heart.

Running a hand through their hair, trying to ground themselves.

Wiping at their face to clear the sweat.

Reaching for a glass of water, with trembling hands

Hugging their knees to their chest for comfort.

Rocking slightly, an unconscious attempt to soothe themselves.

Whispering a mantra or reassurance, "It wasn’t real."

Hesitating to close their eyes again, afraid the nightmare will return.

So there ya go. For people who have had nightmares, this all won't be new. But it's one thing to write from personal experience, and quite another to write from your character's perspective. Writing it , crafting it rather, from their point of view.

[v88sy]

You know what, I'm going to Out-Tim Tim.

Sure, Abby Clark dated a Tommy shortly pre-season one.

Sure, Tommy said he was engaged to Abby.

But they're not the same Tommy. She just dated two different Tommy's. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[theorahsart]

Incorruptible chap 2 pt 11

Robespierre, maybe for just a short span of time, can feel like he belongs somewhere <3

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

They made fun of Bonnie in the FNAF movie, but Twilight did it first 🥲

[pulledpurplecurtains]

Curious why you think spatial design would be the best option for Chloe 👀 (also I am spelling it like that because thats how its written on the site but it feels so odd??)

(english be weird like that sfghjdfgh)

no but LISTEN chloe beale has constructed her entire life to fit with her chosen world, the bellas, she has literally gone to the bare bone of her being her own person and built herself back up with the essence of the bellas fused in everything she is and does and the choices she makes, and is only able to let that go when she just refocuses all that creative, fierce energy towards beca after graduation. she leaves bc beca leaves (the rest too but she does go with beca after all) and she restructures and redesigns herself around beca this time, and she looks so content when beca proclaims that yes they can do the uso tour bc her life focus is right there on this person

and i’m not saying that chloe isn’t her own person, on the contrary. she is the architect and designer of her own life, to the extreme. she has so much emotion in her and so much love and care to give and devotion to extend that she needs to express that energy, she needs to be living in orbit of the people she has chosen as hers bc otherswise what’s the point

so she’d absolutely want to redefine spaces, tear them down and build them back up and infuse them with the specific energy that would maximise their emotional output. she’s been doing it to her own life

[lynzishell]

[Part 2/2]

Prev // Next

Okay...so there's also a part 3, but you're gonna have to go to Pillowfort for that 😉Here's the link if you're interested. 18+ ONLY

Transcript:

Dawn: Can I ask you something? Phoenix: Sure. Dawn: Why did you ask for your earbuds? Phoenix: What? Oh, um, it just, it helps. When the attacks first started, they were triggered by a lot of different things, but the worst was loud noises. Walking around the city there’s always horns and sirens and yelling, and it was hard. My therapist suggested headphones, and it worked surprisingly well. It’s weird because I just blare loud music, but it’s different for some reason. It drowns out everything else and it just…helps.

Dawn: There weren’t any loud noises where we were climbing. Phoenix: I know. It just helps quiet the, uh, I don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it. I guess it’s just become a comfort thing over time. Dawn: Yeah, that makes sense.

Phoenix: Thank you, by the way, for helping me through it. Dawn: You’re welcome.

Phoenix: And thanks for coming out with me tonight. Dawn: Aw thanks for inviting me. But I’m curious. Phoenix: Hm? Dawn: I’m curious if this is a date? I assumed not at first, but it’s kind of starting to feel like one. Phoenix: It is, isn’t it? Well, I guess it depends. Dawn: On what? Phoenix: Do you want to go on a date with me? Dawn: [blushing] Yes, I do.

Phoenix: It’s a date then, but maybe next time I can do better than an empty festival and digging through trash. Dawn: You mean it gets better than this? Phoenix: Don’t get your hopes up too high, but yeah, I think I can do better. Dawn: Haha alright. Well, all things considered, I’d call this a pretty successful date.   Phoenix: Yeah, I can think of one thing that would make it better. Dawn: What’s that? Phoenix: If I can kiss you. Dawn: You can definitely do that.

[insert 10 min makeout in the street]

Phoenix: I’m happy to walk you home if you want. Or you’re welcome to stay at my place tonight. It’s up to you. Dawn: Let’s go to your place. I’m not ready to go home just yet.

[mystardustmelodyyy]

A tale of love, lust, & crime!

I’ve had this rattling around in my head for a while 💋

Thank you to my girl @remotewatch for playing editor this time! 🌹

Beverly Hills, 1971

Lieutenant Amato had been in the homicide department a long time. Eighteen years, to be exact- he’d questioned his fair share of widows. There was no doubt in his mind that Sabrina Van Ecken, the thirty-one year old housewife who was serving him fresh lemonade in her garden less than 48 hours after highway patrol found her husband belly up in the Pacific, was suspicious. But goddamnit, she was charming.

“These are heirloom roses, they’re much more fragrant than your modern varietal,” she chirped, handing him an iced drinking glass and a digestive biscuit. “You’re more than welcome to take some for your wife. How long did you say you had been married?”

Amato pushed up a grubby, coffee stained sleeve and accepted the treats. “It’s our silver anniversary this weekend.” He grunted.

“How grand!” Sabrina’s gold bracelets jingled like little bells as she clasped her hands together with glee. Then with an utmost seriousness, she removed her oversized sunglasses and looked him directly in the eye. “Lieutenant, I’m going to be straight with you. I’m glad Todd’s dead. But I didn’t kill him.

How brazen! Amato nearly choked on his biscuit. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a nearby doily and composed himself. “That’s quite a statement, Mrs. Van Ecken.”

The young widow nodded and gingerly tucked some glossy strands of dark hair behind her ears., “I loved him in my own way you see. He wasn’t cruel or violent. But- and I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead so quickly- he was an ignoramus.”

“An ignoramus, miss?”

“Yes you know the type- doesn’t vote, leaves the toilet seat up, thinks Julia Child’s recipes are too exotic, that sort of thing.”

“I see.” Amato replied, thankful that years on the force had trained him to keep his cool even under strange circumstances like this one. “Do you know anyone who would want to kill him?”

“Oh plenty. Todd had a lot of enemies.” She nodded matter of factly, “His investor that he pantsed at a company meeting, all the country club caddies, servers he never tipped, I could go on. I don’t know what I expected, marrying into oil money.”

Amato scribbled furiously on his notepad. “What about his business partner that moved in recently? Jonathan Mollier?”

“Jonathan?” Sabrina’s expression softened “they had a complicated relationship as well. But it worked somehow. I can say with certainty, lieutenant, that if Todd had lived we would have stayed married and Jonathan would have been in business with him forever. Now that he’s gone… god rest his soul… we’ve both got a new lease on life.

“There has been talk of you two spending a lot of time together.” The lieutenant broached, raising his eyebrows. Sabrina just smiled.

“And they’re right! Jonathan has been helping me with the orphaned sea turtles foundation that I made through the company. Todd never was one for philanthropy, you see.” She took a long sip of lemonade. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but accidental death hasn’t been ruled out yet, has it?”

“It has not. As I’m sure you’re aware, your husband had enough DUIs that we are seriously considering that angle… by the way, is Jonathan Mollier from THE Mollier family? The ones on the east coast?”

“That’s correct. You’re a sharp one, lieutenant! I’d say you should question him too but he just went out paddle boarding. Perhaps you could come back later this week. I can arrange for some flowers to be made into a bouquet for your wife as well…”

⛵️⛵️🍒🍒🍒⛵️⛵️⛵️⛵️🍒🍒☀️☀️☀️☀️

Lieutenant Amato left with a box of biscuits, a carafe of lemonade, and a spring in his step. Gosh, if only someone had told Sabrina in her younger years that manipulating the police was so simple! She might have had a glamorous stint as a cat burglar on the French Riviera in another life.

“He’s gone?” Jonathan Mollier, fresh off the paddle board in an unzipped wetsuit trotted towards the rose garden where Sabrina was waiting for him, arms outstretched.

“Yes,” Sabrina beamed, “I made him my famous lemonade.”

“Excellent, my love. The sooner we can get them to rule it an accidental death, the sooner we can leave town.”

🌺🌺🌺🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Beverly Hills, 1971, two months earlier

If you’d asked Jonathan Mollier as an expat what it would take to get him back to the states, Todd Van Ecken would not have been on the list. In fact, when he’d met up with his former roommate during his last trip to New York, Todd proposing they go into business together initially came off as one of his infamous pranks. Until he started listing off facts, figures, and lucrative stock options. Todd even said that Jonathan could continue working in Japan from time to time, although he did want him to be primarily based in Beverly Hills with him. Jonathan, who had admittedly been feeling rather unmoored abroad since the birth of his sister’s second child and the passing of his beloved uncle, saw no better reason to return. California for a business venture- the perfect mix of new opportunities and old stomping grounds. When Todd picked him up from LAX Jonathan felt light and open, although that may have been partly due to the qualuudes his doctor had prescribed for the international flight. Even Todd’s erratic driving and excessive application of Old Spice while en route to his Beverly Hills mansion seemed charming rather than tiresome.

“So you’ll be in the guest suite on the west wing,” Todd said, flicking a cigarette butt out the window of his Jaguar Roadster “it ain’t the Ritz or anything but it should be roomy enough for those funky surf boards of yours”

“Paddle boards..” Jonathan corrected as he gently dusted stray ashes that had fallen onto his new YSL sport coat, “thanks again for letting me crash with you for a bit. I know nothing about California real estate.”

“Sure thing, you’re saving my ass here. Using my folks oil seismographs for consumer electronics was all fun and games until I realized I needed someone who actually understood the technology.”

“Oil man turned calculator entrepreneur is certainly a leap.” He agreed. “But if I learned anything at Toshiba, it’s that there’s a massive demand for chip tech. Anyway, I swear I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sabrina’s excited to have someone else in the house anyway.”

“Sabrina?”

“Yeah, Sabrina. My wife, ya dill weed.” Todd laughed. “You would’ve known that if you came to the wedding instead of sleeping on the floor in Japan or whatever it is you do over there. We’ve been married six years now.”

So it was the same girl. Todd had caused quite a stir amongst their old Yale classmates when he married a girl he’d met in Vegas less than a month after meeting her. It was rumored to be a shotgun wedding and when a baby never arrived it caused even more of a scandal.

“The ADPhi brothers and their wives still avoid her like the plague for god knows what reason” Todd continued, seemingly predicting his reaction. “Kinda bullshit, if you’ll pardon my French. I mean, what qualifications does a wife need, right? But she’s a sweet girl, you’ll like her. You both care about animals, believe it or not! Although I’ll tell ya, she’s been on my ass lately about getting a dog. She won’t shut up about it! But I told her, ‘no way Jose I don’t want those mongrels in the house��. I mean really! You’ll back me up on that, won’t you Jonathan?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes; the qualuudes hadn’t worn off, but Todd’s charm was waning to say the least. He gave a noncommittal “Mmhhmm” before drifting off to sleep as Todd continued to yap his way through the roads of Los Angeles county.

♥️♥️♥️♥️⛵️⛵️⛵️🌺🌺🌺🌺🍾🍾🍾

The Van Eckens tried out a few rental properties before committing to buy when they’d settled in Los Angeles. First it was a high rise on Wilshire Boulevard, but the lack of greenery made them both stir crazy. Then it was a Pierre Koenig house in the Hollywood Hills, which to this day Sabrina maintained was stunning, but Todd was disturbed by the amount of right angles. Eventually they settled on a neo colonial style mansion with a rounded balcony, lush landscaping, and easy access to the ocean. When Jonathan exited the Roadster, the bracing sea breeze felt like a shot of espresso.

He’d packed modestly for his flight- just a trusty Hartman suitcase and the treasured attaché that belonged to his late uncle. Most of his belongings were set to arrive tomorrow morning. Jonathan took it upon himself to unpack and freshen up when he and Todd entered the house with no Sabrina in sight.

“She’s around, I’ll find her.” Todd shrugged. “Your room is up the stairs, second door to the left if you wanna get settled. The phone in there isn’t connected yet but we’ve got another in the kitchen. Holler if you need anything.”

Getting his belongings in order didn’t take long at all, but putting his to-do list together was another matter. He needed to call his folks now that he was back in the states; they’d be at the Martha’s Vineyard house this time of year. Then there was renewing his driver’s license, touching base with investors, replacing his shoehorn that broke in transit to California… It was dizzying. Oh, how he longed to take an impromptu dip in the ocean and forget all his responsibilities! Luckily the sun had begun to set, so kicking back in the leather Marsala lounge chair setup and turning on some music seemed like a completely reasonable course of action. Jonathan even indulged in one of the pastel mints that had been artfully composed on top of his flanged pillow, like icing on a lambeth cake. There was a stationary card too, featuring a message written in big loopy script.

Welcome back, Jonathan!

Below the message there was a drawing that could only be Todd’s contribution; a rendering of the Hanna Barbera character Hong Kong Phooey breaking a cinder block, with a word bubble above the cartoon dog’s head.

It’s about damn time! Hi-ya!

Jonathan politely folded the card stock in half so that only the first message was visible.

As he began to fiddle with the radio controls, he could vaguely make out a woman’s voice chatting with Todd downstairs followed by the sound of agile footsteps pattering up the staircase and an airy “I’ll be down in a jiffy!”

Jonathan, who was in no rush himself, settled on the USC radio station before strolling to the bay window, surveying his new digs. The rose gardens in the back of the house were even more stunning than the impeccably trimmed boxwoods in the front landscaping. He was thrilled to see there was a slight view of the ocean in his room, albeit partially obscured by what appeared to be the master suite. Man, those California sunsets really were something. Cotton Candy clouds dotted the sky as gold light flooded into his room, and for a moment, Jonathan felt an all consuming wave of calm wash over him. So much so that he almost missed the leggy brunette in tennis whites dash into the master suit and beeline for the closet, disappearing behind a buttery yellow curtain… the elusive lady of the house!

She does, indeed, change in a jiffy. Not even a minute goes by before Mrs. Van Ecken comes out clad in a Pucci mini dress and twirls happily in front of her vanity mirror, mane of dark hair bouncing around. Jonathan was transfixed. But, as she began to tie a matching scarf into her hair she paused, frowning.

What could be troubling such an exquisite creature?

Not even a nanosecond later, she darted back behind the curtain only to return in a plain, wool shift dress. She stared blankly into the mirror, arms akimbo, before throwing them up in frustration and retreating into her sartorial lab. It was almost comically in tune with the frenetic Beatles song blaring on the radio.

Ah, she's got a ticket to ride

She's got a ticket to ride

She's got a ticket to ride

But she don't care

The third time she emerges she’s in a fluffy pink bathrobe carrying an armful of options that were still on their hangers. A boho printed maxi dress? No. A frilly, wide collared babydoll frock? No. A slick ivory jumpsuit? No, no, NO. Each contender was held up to the mirror and discarded with increasing force while Paul, John, Ringo and George descended into musical cacophony.

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

This is when she sees Jonathan, who realized that he had gone from mild observation to fully studying the scene before him with rapt attention. Surely the long flight was to blame for him forgetting his manners? How uncouth of him! He scurries to the bay window drapery and quickly mouths “Sorry” to her, hoping the blush flooding his cheeks isn’t visible across the way.

She just smiles and gives a little wave as she mouths back “It’s ok!”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, still flustered, and closed the drapes. He threw on a fresh cashmere polo and smoking slippers before heading downstairs. Given the time difference his parents would likely be in bed already, but maybe he could ring one of his sisters before dinner.

🍦🍦🍒🍒☀️☀️💋💋✨✨🐠🐠

TO BE CONTINUED 💋💕

[carnevol]

Hi dear 😊 I wanted to ask, what are your favourite Austin gifs? A top 5?

Hey sweets! Oh my… that’s a tough question! I must have made and reblogged hundreds of that boy’s gifs over the years 🤣 but I’m gonna post some of my favorites, I’ll stick to the old ones since you’ve seen the recent ones (all his gifs with Cal are 😍). Might not be top 5 but I’ll scroll through my blog and memories and post what catches my eye. I’ll also stick to Austin gifs and not his characters.

[batsyl]

Chapters: 1/35 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Prophecy, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Abuse, Bickering, Identity Crisis for both my boys, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi is So Done, Darth Maul Being a Little Shit, Worse Dream-Team in existence, Not Beta Read, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi Summary:

Let’s switch up the timeline a little bit:

Maul is captured by Ashoka before the Chancellor is being kidnapped, thus order 66 doesn’t happen just yet. Instead Maul is taken to Coruscant to stand trial.

At the same time, an Exploration Corp finds note of an ancient artefact of great importance, but has trouble locating it. For the artefact to be located and activated, it needs both, a Jedi and a Sith. Good thing the Order has one at hand. Obi-Wan, unwilling to put another Jedi a risk, volunteers to work with Maul. Maul is, surprisingly, quite cooperative.

Together, they challenge destiny.

[someotherdog]

for / @thewolfruns participants / corky & any of your nurse muses! story / it's purge night and our gals are working the er. (in this universe, hospitals and medical workers are off-limits in the purge.) setting / triage, maybe? you decide. just know it's the emergency department!

corky slammed the clipboard on the counter, startling herself even though she was the one that made the noise. she was heaving a heavy sigh when one of her favorite nurses appeared at her side. "hey girl." corrine rubbed at her eyebrow, the cacophony of the er was giving her a mighty headache. "please tell me again why i work purge night every year? the money can't be that good, right?" unfortunately, it was.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Before I go to bed, I do also need to tell you that my sister is finally ready Pyranesi (!!!)

[rustbeltjessie]

I haven’t been blogging much lately. Between allergies (which, by the way, are just allergies, not CoViD—I took two tests just to be sure, and both were negative), my toe injury (I managed to gouge a chunk out of the big toe on my right foot on the bottom corner of the fridge door—don’t ask me how, I was completely sober), and everything else (like my day job, my other sometimes-job, my side hustle, and my side side hustle; plus homeschooling two kiddos and the general dailiness of life), I’m just fucking wiped.

And on top of all that, there’s the attempts to find time to enter writing contests and calls for submissions, the packing up hella zine orders (I can’t send them out all at once or I’ll run out of money, so it’s going like this: sending out preorders first, then sending out regular orders in the order in which they were received), the trying to finish up Bone & Ink Press’s New Wave anthology for real for real, the poetry readings, the taking my kids to their various appointments and extracurricular activities.

I’m not really complaining. Other than the allergies, the toe injury, and the fact that I have about a bajillion jobs and side-hustles yet am still always broke and stressed about money, things aren’t bad. Just busy.

Well. Okay. Maybe I am complaining a little. Because a lot of days I don’t want to deal with any of that. A lot of days I just wanna read books, and drink coffee, and get in my feelings about the Ed Stasium mix of The Replacements’ Tim, and stand outside in the wet September night listening to the owls doing their mating calls, and write poems about ghosts. Why can’t I make money off that?

[badtshirtdesign]

[theflagscene]

Lmao 😂 10k posts on my birthday, seems legit.

[punin10ded]

Forgot when I remade my blog that it isn't really mine until there's a Kingdom Hearts spam