#Featuring a scene from EN!

[apocalypticpsiboys]

(Nesscas Week!!) Day 3 || Comfort 🌙

“Do you think anybody was following us?” Ness asked.

Lucas didn’t say anything for a moment, but when he did he turned to Ness with a smile. “How about I stay up and you get some rest? I’ll keep an eye out.”

[namonamm]

[ID: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint fanart done in black, white, and red. Kim Dokja's hand opens a thick book which is floating in space. The left page features the definition of the French phrase "mise en abyme" and its definition, "placement at the escutcheon's center : depiction of the escutcheon itself within an escutcheon : image within an image : story within a story", along with a description taken from Wikipedia.The other side shows a deep cut-out in the book which reveals that the book contains a room lined with books that a young, bandaged Kim Dokja is standing in. Young Kim Dokja clutches a book to his chest and looks up distrustfully, standing in a pool of blood and casting the shadow of a Demon King. On his desk is a book open to the same scene depicted by the art. End ID] (Described by: @princess-of-purple-prose.)

[connorsui]

In the Quiet Afterhours

Zayne x reader

Synopsis: In the quiet of afterhours, you and zayne find solace in the intimacy of simple acts of care, your love unspoken yet deeply felt through the tenderness of shared moments.

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, silence of intimacy, zayne wanting to drown himself in your warmth, you are the light in this manz life, no warnings tho …zayne has suffered enough

note: I just wanna take care of him...like plz let me give my man his needed care..

w.: 1,180

There was, perhaps, no greater feeling than the quietude of love that existed in those moments where words fell away, leaving only the hum of companionship to bind two souls together. Zayne had always been a man of few words—practical in his pursuits, level-headed in his judgments, and ever the picture of self-possession. Yet, beneath that stern exterior, there was a tenderness reserved solely for you, a tenderness that revealed itself not in grand gestures or fervent declarations, but in the subtleties of shared moments, and the warmth of a gaze lingering far longer than propriety might allow.

This evening was no different, save for the weariness etched into his fine features, the faint shadows under his hazel-green eyes telling the tale of a long day spent in service to duty. He returned home as he always did—quietly, with little fanfare, his shoulders still squared despite the obvious weight that pressed upon him. And yet, when his eyes found yours, there was a softening in his expression, the firm lines of his brow relaxing as though the sight of you alone was enough to ease the burdens he carried.

"Welcome home," you murmured, the warmth of your voice drawing him nearer.

"Hello, love"

Zayne, ever pragmatic, offered a small nod, but it was the way his hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek that spoke volumes more than any pleasantry could. There was an intimacy in that touch, in the way his fingers lingered against your skin as though reluctant to part, as though you alone were the balm to his tired soul.

He said little as you coaxed him toward the shower, his resistance nonexistent, for he had learned, in these quiet moments, to let you care for him. It was a remarkable thing, this unspoken understanding between you—a partnership built on the most delicate threads of love, trust, and respect. You, in turn, had come to know that behind Zayne’s pragmatic exterior was a man who cherished the simplicity of your presence, a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable only when the world outside had no claim on him.

The warm cascade of water was a gentle relief, steam curling in the air as you worked the soap into your hands, your fingers gliding over his tense shoulders. The muscles beneath your touch, though firm, betrayed a quiet exhaustion, and as you began to wash him, you could feel the faint tremor of relief in his body, the tension slowly unraveling.

He closed his eyes, his lips parting in a near inaudible sigh, and for a moment, he was not the stoic officer, nor the pragmatic strategist. He was simply Zayne, a man who found comfort in your touch, in the way your hands moved with careful precision over his skin, tracing the curves and lines that you had come to know so intimately.

In another’s eyes, this scene might have seemed mundane, but there was an indescribable beauty in the familiarity of it all—a beauty that lay not in grandiose acts of affection but in the quiet devotion with which you attended to one another. It was a love that needed no embellishment, no flowery language to justify its existence, for it was rooted in something far more profound.

When your hands drifted lower, the soap lathering between your fingers, Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, and there it was again—that look of quiet reverence that always seemed to accompany his gaze when it fell upon you. It was not the gaze of a man merely admiring your physical form, but the gaze of a man rediscovering you anew each time, as though the sight of you was enough to set his soul alight in ways words could never adequately express.

He said nothing, but the faintest upward curve of his lips betrayed him. “Spoiling me again?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing in a way that would have seemed foreign to anyone but you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” you replied softly, smiling as your hands worked the soap along the lines of his body. “You work so hard... At least let me take care of you.”

There was a moment, brief yet timeless, where Zayne’s eyes softened even further, the weight of his exhaustion giving way to something deeper, something far more tender. It was in these moments that you truly understood the depth of his affections. He would never speak them outright, for it was not his nature to indulge in the overt declarations that many sought in love. Yet, in the way he stood before you, allowing you to see him in his most vulnerable state, you knew. You knew that his heart, so often guarded, was entirely yours.

When it came time to wash his hair, Zayne bent forward with practiced ease, his dark hair falling over his brow as you lathered the shampoo into his scalp. You laughed, as you always did, at the way his hair fluffed beneath the suds, your amusement drawing a faint smile from him.

“You look cute like this,” you teased, the lightness in your voice a welcome contrast to the quiet of the room.

He glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised in mock indignation. “cute?...another word for you to describe me...” he echoed, his voice dry, though the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed his amusement. “If you could see how I invision you, the roles would be reversed"

Yet he made no protest, content to let you have your moment of playful teasing. For all his stoicism, Zayne had always had a soft spot for the way your laughter lit up the room, and though he would never admit it aloud, he found your teasing far more endearing than he let on.

When the roles reversed, and it was Zayne’s hands that worked the soap into your hair, he was as gentle as ever. His fingers moved with a precision that was unmistakably him, careful to ensure no soap slipped into your eyes. “I know you say I deserved to be spoiled but allow me to give that in return, ten times fold ” he murmured, his voice a quiet caress, his touch so tender it felt as though you might melt beneath it.

You didn't argue.

Once the water had washed away the last traces of soap, he reached for a towel, and in the same unhurried manner, began to dry you off with the utmost care, as though each motion was imbued with the love he so rarely spoke of. It was in these moments, in the quiet spaces between words, that you truly understood the depth of Zayne’s love for you—a love that, like the stars themselves, was constant, enduring, and far more profound than words could ever convey.

Even after the task was complete, he lingered, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close in an embrace that spoke of more than just comfort. It was connection, the unspoken promise that even in silence, his heart was yours.

His breath, soft against your neck, mingled with the warmth of your skin, and there, in the quiet afterhours of the day, there was no need for words.

Just the two of you alone.

Gimmie a tired zayne I would take care of him

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

Masterpost: Visual Kei movies & other types jrockers were involved

So, it came to my attention some of you want to watch more visual kei movies so I thought of listing what I know, in case you've missed any of those. Please feel free to add anything I've missed with reblogs or in the comments.

Thank you @kirk-goes-to-gallifrey for the three movie links! ^^ And thank you @waretamado for helping with the titles of Plastic Tree's movies! Btw most of the vkei only movies must still be available on YT guys, however not all of them will be on HD.

Visual Kei movies:

Seth et Holth (1993) (Hide) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vx_laJCEpew)

Moon Child (2003) (Gackt & Hyde)

Verte Aile/Bel Air (1997) (Malice Mizer) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vdd58pTaK8A)

Bara no Konrei/Bridal of the Rose (2001) (Malice Mizer) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr1d_cFRnxs)

BeatRock☆Love (2009) (Takeru ex.SuG)

Number Six (2006) (Alice Nine)

Yuku Pura Kuru Pura... Edokawa Puranpo no 「Ougon otoko」~「Visual bako no bijo」 (Plastic Tree) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81Bb-3L4l2E)

Yuku Pura Kuru Pura... Edokawa Puranpo no 「Onan tokage」~「Bishounen wo kuu bijo」 (Plastic Tree) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAha6vDCE0Q)

Yuku Pura Kuru Pura...Edokawa Puranpo no「Angura Kaijin」~「Remon no bijo」 (Plastic Tree) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pzt3ai5LSXc)

Ascendead Master (2009) (Versailles)

Onegai Kanaete (2011) (Versailles)

Oresama (2004) (Miyavi) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcBvKQfVKNM)

Soundtrack (2002) (Sugizo) (I don't know if it's a vkei movie but since the theme appears to be music-oriented, I put it here)

Non Visual Kei movies jrockers acted in:

Kagen no Tsuki (2004) (this is a live action of a manga) (Hyde)

There is a movie that Takeru of SuG had played in for only a couple of scenes that was his first ever role, but I forget the name. I remember sth about "blue generation" or sth. If sb remembers it, please put it in the comments. Most people might remember the scene with the fluffy coat, him with blond hair turning to the protagonist with a menacing look, from the distance.

Paracelcus' Homonculus (2015) (this is an artsy film based off a photographer's exhibition) (Takeru of SuG)

Midori: the Camellia girl (2016) (live action of a manga) (Takeru of SuG)

Bunraku (2010) (Gackt)

Akumu-chan (2014) (Gackt)

Karanukan (2018) (Gackt)

Tonde Saitama 1 (2019) & 2 (2023) (Gackt)

Moshimo Tokugawa Ieyasu ga Sori Daijin ni Nattara (2024) (Gackt)

Furin Kazan (2007) (Gackt)

Mr. Brain (2009) (it must have been 1 episode or 2) (Gackt)

Tempest (2011) (Gackt)

Sengoku Basara (2012) (Gackt)

Time Spiral (2014) (Gackt)

BLEACH (2018) (live action) (Miyavi)

Hell Dogs (2022) (Miyavi)

Familia (2023) (Miyavi)

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019) (Miyavi)

Kate (2021) (Miyavi)

Stray (2019) (Miyavi)

Unbroken (2014) (Miyavi)

There's a movie with either gangs or bands that Chiyu of SuG played after the disband. Papiko, shed your light cause I don't remember the title.

30-thirty (2000) Hakuei

The Legend of the The Stardust Brothers (1985) (Issay)

溺れる魚 / Drowning Fish (2001) (Izam of Shazna)

Other

REPO! The Genetic Opera (2008) (Yoshiki was involved with the music production of this film. Personally I learnt it years after I'd watched it)

Death Trance (2005) (It features many Dir en Grey songs in its soundtracks)

Hamlet (1998) (A rock opera version of the famous play, by Penicillin) YT link (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hljXGPsUU1Q)

I hope you can find anything you like and enjoy!

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: miles morales x hispanic spider gn reader (featuring my accent)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you pretend like you don't know who miles is.

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 398 ~ established relationship

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: light hearted name calling

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: let's pretend what happens after this scene does not happen

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Word on the block was that Miles finally got invited into the Spider Society HQ–whether on good terms or not–and you were more than excited to see him again... but Miguel might not like that. He knew you'd met him when you were shot out of your universe into his over a year ago, but he didn't know you've been visiting him ever since; at least that's what it seemed like. You didn't know exactly.

As you walked into his office, or more the long hallway of useless technology before it, you heard Miles shout from the distance, "Te trajE una empanada!" (I brought you an empanada!)

You knew his Spanish was bad but it still hurt to hear it. You covered the rest of the way with big steps, getting a quick glance of Miles and then turning back up to Miguel to give him an excuse, "Hey Miguel. I just got back from–"

"(y/n)!!" Miles exclaims, wrapping his arms around you in a hug you struggle not to reciprocate. He was ecstatic at everything here, you could tell, but he was even happier seeing you.

You pretend you don't know him, but squeeze his shoulder in the hopes of sending him a silent message. "Miguel, quien es e'te man?" (who is this man?)

"What do you mean?" He gasps outlandishly, "It's me, Miles!"

"Millas?" (miles?)

"Not Miles like la distancia, pendejow. ¿Qué te pasou? ¿Te dieyron un golpetóne en la cabeyza?" (like the distance, idiot. What happened to you? Did they punch you in the head?)

"¿Qué-?" You recoil with convincing disgust, "¿Qué 'tas diciendo homb'e?" (What? What is this man saying?)

"Hombre??" Miles's nose scrunches up and his eyebrows furrow, clearly he was insulted, "What happened to "mi amor", ah? Who do you think you are??" (Man??)

Okay he wasn't getting the memo. "Miguel, solo dime quien es e'te man con el español de primer grado." (Miguel, just tell me who this man with the first grade Spanish is.)

"You don't have to keep up the act." Miguel finally regards you with his scowl, which is deeper than usual. "I know you've been using my gadgets to give your little "bf" a kiss every weekend. Very primitive use of the technology I lend you."

So he's known all this time. You sigh, but at least it means you can wrap an arm around your boyfriend. It also allows him to press a relieved kiss on your cheek.

"Sorry, mi amor." Hopefully he's not caught up on what you've said. You glance at him and see that his eyes look like <3 <3 so he's definitely not taken it too hard.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

miles very much seems like a !! and ?? kinda boy

[verstappensrealwife]

Just Friends - Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

fluff. approx. 2300 words

warnings : drinking alcohol, mentions of drunkness, kissing.

a/n: fully aware i just posted the poll an hour ago but i was too excited to write this idea, its 2am, and it was winning the poll anyways.

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You have known Lando practically since the day you took your first breath—well, maybe not quite that early, but close enough. He was barely two when you entered the world, your mothers having been friends since their school days. So, it was only natural that he made an appearance at the hospital with his mother to welcome you into the world.

His first reaction upon meeting you was a mixture of surprise and disappointment, his innocent query about your gender met with tears when your mother revealed you were, indeed, a baby girl. It's a story you never fail to bring up whenever he expresses admiration for you.

"Y/N, you're such an amazing person," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol, as you practically carried him through the pulsating lights and booming music of the club. His arm draped heavily over your shoulders, you were on a mission to save him from humiliating himself with an ill-advised karaoke rendition of a Queen song.

"You didn't think I was this great when I was born," you quipped, your own sobriety a stark contrast to his inebriated state. In fact, you hadn't planned on being in the club at all. It was Lando who had insisted on your presence, summoning you to "rescue him from this esteemed establishment!"

Today, Lando, you and a few others found yourselves dining together. The evening air was balmy, with the soft glow of summer casting a golden hue through the windows, illuminating your face in a particularly enchanting manner.

He won’t deny looking at you a little longer sometimes, and quickly coming to his senses by stopping immediately. Just a friend.

You found yourselves amidst the lively celebration of a friend's engagement, nestled by a large window that framed the enchanting evening sky. The restaurant exuded a cosy ambiance, with lush greenery draping the walls and vibrant artwork adorning every corner. Across the room, the exposed brick walls added a touch of rustic charm to the eclectic space.

The table before you was a veritable feast, adorned with an array of delectable dishes and overflowing drinks—empty glasses serving as a testament to the spirited revelry that had unfolded. Amidst the cheerful chatter of your companions, you found yourself engaged in a spirited discourse with your friend beside you, passionately expounding on the intricacies of drink measurements, though your slightly slurred speech betrayed your less-than-sober state.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene, you settled your portion of the bill and rose from your seat, bidding farewell to each friend with warm hugs and heartfelt kisses. Exiting the restaurant alongside Lando, you were met with the cool night air and the anticipation of your awaiting ride.

With the Uber en route and a mere seven minutes away, you and Lando stood side by side in comfortable silence, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his features as he scrolled through Instagram. Occasionally, he would eagerly show you a post, finding amusement in the most obscure content, prompting an amused quirk of your eyebrow or an incredulous shake of your head.

When he insisted on the hilarity of yet another post, you regarded him with mock incredulity, your eyes silently questioning his sense of humour. His playful insistence only served to deepen your amusement, eliciting a hearty laugh that bubbled from deep within your chest.

The video showed himself as “Lando Norizz”.

"I do have ‘rizz’, you know," he declared with mock indignation.

“As if,” You snorted, “Prove it tough guy.”

Drawing closer to you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the intensity of his gaze should have rendered you speechless—if only you were sober. Instead, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound ringing out into the night air.

Apologies tumbled from your lips between fits of laughter, though any offence Lando might have felt had quickly dissolved into shared amusement. Chuckling together, you settled into the Uber, the echoes of your laughter filling the night as you made your way home.

As you stumbled through the door of your apartment, Lando in tow, the weight of laughter and shared moments still lingering in the air, you tossed your keys onto the side table with a careless flick and collapsed onto the inviting embrace of the couch. Without missing a beat, Lando joined you, his presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of the night. With an affectionate eye roll, you nudged him playfully as he settled beside you, the warmth of his body a familiar presence against your own.

He reached for the remote, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He flicked on the TV, the ambient murmur of the characters serving as a gentle backdrop to the two of you being occupied by other things. Despite the lure of the TV screen, your attention remained steadfastly on the book you were reading, Lando’s on his twitter feed.

"Was my charm really that terrible?" he queried out of the blue.

You glanced up, eyebrows knitting together in contemplation before offering a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't horrendous," you admitted.

"So... any pointers? What went wrong?" he pressed, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

"Because I was a tad more drunk thirty minutes ago, and besides, we're friends," you replied matter-of-factly, returning your attention to the book you had been engrossed in.

As the weight of your words settled between you, Lando felt a pang of realisation pierce through him like a dagger. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he had been oblivious to until that moment. The casual dismissal of his attempts at charm stung deeper than he cared to admit, a stark reminder of the invisible barrier that separated them. With a heavy heart, he watched you return to your book, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever before. In that fleeting moment, Lando's gaze lingered on you, his heart aching with the silent acknowledgment of what could never be—a realisation that left him feeling more alone than he had ever felt before.

He coughed awkwardly, the sound breaking the tense atmosphere like a fragile thread snapping under pressure, and rose from his seat with uncharacteristic haste. "I- um- I'm gonna go to bed," he mumbled, his words stumbling over each other in a clumsy attempt to fill the silence.

"Alright," you replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched him retreat. "No funny business in my spare room!" you called after him, injecting a note of levity into the moment.

His laughter echoed in the hallway, a bittersweet melody that lingered long after he had disappeared from view, leaving behind a lingering ache in his chest as he wrestled with the realisation that his unspoken desires would forever remain unfulfilled.

The next morning, as you nursed your slight hangover with a steaming cup of coffee, you sought solace in scrolling through TikToks in the comfort of your kitchen. The first few videos passed by in a blur of mundane content, until your own face suddenly appeared on the screen.

You weren't a celebrity by any means, but being known as Lando's friend had its consequences, as evidenced by the video capturing the previous night's awkward encounter outside the restaurant. Your groan echoed in the quiet kitchen as you watched the clip unfold, realising with a sinking feeling that your innocent moment with Lando had been misconstrued by the watching world.

He was mere centimetres away from you in the video, his gaze unmistakably fixed on your lips with an intensity that made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was clear to anyone watching that his intentions had been misinterpreted, yet the damage had already been done. As the video looped, each replay serving as a painful reminder of the misunderstanding, you couldn't help but wonder how something so innocent had been twisted into something else entirely.

As you read through the comments, a curious mixture of amusement and surprise washed over you as you noticed a recurring theme emerging: shipping you and your friend, Lando. At first, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, scoffing at the playful speculation and fanciful theories concocted by strangers on the internet. But as you delved deeper into the comments, something shifted within you.

With each passing remark, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of recognition that began to take hold. You found yourself reflecting on the countless moments you and Lando had shared together— the inside jokes, the late-night conversations, the unwavering support through thick and thin. And as you considered the undeniable bond that existed between you, you couldn't help but acknowledge the striking parallels between your friendship and that of a romantic relationship

Suddenly, the playful banter and lighthearted teasing that had once been the hallmark of your friendship took on a new significance, leaving you grappling with the realisation that perhaps there was more to your connection with Lando than you had initially realised. With a newfound sense of introspection, you closed your phone, the words of the commenters lingering in your mind as you pondered the possibility of something more between you and your friend.

As the minutes ticked by and your thoughts swirled with newfound clarity, a profound realisation settled within you like a weight in your chest: you wanted him. Wanted him in a way that transcended the boundaries of friendship, in every conceivable sense. You wanted his laughter to be the melody that filled your days, his warmth to be the comfort that enveloped you in moments of doubt, his presence to be the anchor that grounded you amidst life's storms.

Yet, amidst the fervent desire that pulsed through your veins, a gnawing uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your newfound revelation. Did he feel the same? Did he see you as anything more than just a friend? The questions lingered, casting a shadow of doubt over your burgeoning feelings, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of laying your heart bare.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the kitchen counter, the weight of your newfound realisation settling upon you like a mantle. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with the potential for heartache and rejection, yet amidst the swirling tumult of emotions, one thing remained clear: you couldn't ignore the undeniable truth of your own heart any longer.

As he strolled into the kitchen, the sight of him shirtless and clad in joggers that seemed all too familiar sent a jolt of warmth coursing through you. Yet, as you met his gaze, the weight of your realisation pressed heavily upon you, urging you to confront the truth that had been swirling in your mind. "Did you know people shipped us?" you blurted out, unable to contain the urgency in your voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he masked it with a casual indifference. But you knew better. You could see the subtle tension in the set of his jaw, the guardedness in his expression. He had known—had felt the weight of those speculative gazes just as keenly as you had. "I guess so," he replied with a noncommittal shrug, his tone carefully neutral. "Why?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, and you found yourself grappling with the sudden urge to lay bare your heart before him, to confess the depth of your feelings and the tumultuous journey of self-discovery that had led you to this moment. But as you met his gaze, the uncertainty that clouded your mind held you back, leaving the words trapped on the tip of your tongue, unspoken yet pulsing with a fervency that threatened to consume you.

Without a word, he took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

In that charged moment, with the weight of unspoken words pressing down upon you, you felt something shift within you—a primal urge to seize the moment, to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. And so, fueled by the fire of your newfound realisation and the palpable tension that hung between you, you closed the whole distance between you in a single, daring move.

With a trembling hand, you reached up to cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin electrifying against your touch. And then, with a surge of courage that bordered on reckless abandon, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss a declaration of desire and longing that transcended words.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sweetness of the moment, the taste of him searing itself into your memory with every brush of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting instant, as the world fell away around you, you knew with a certainty that resonated deep within your soul: this was where you were meant to be.

As you pulled back, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you met his gaze with a newfound sense of clarity and certainty. And in the quiet understanding that passed between you, there was no need for words—just the simple, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that had always been there, waiting to be embraced.

With a soft laugh and a tender squeeze of his hand, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that was as simple as it was profound. And as you leaned in to rest your head against his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement for the journey that lay ahead—a journey that promised to be filled with laughter, love, and countless moments of simple, unadulterated joy.

El fin.

this is the best thing i have ever written in my many years of life. thank you me.

[cemeteryspider]

Genosha Revisited

Purely Father Daughter!: Magneto! Erik Magnus Lehnsherr x Daughter! Reader

Gambit! Remy Lebeau x Mutant! Reader

Summary: A complete rewrite of episode 5 of X-Men 97' where you and Gambit visit Genosha to see the place where your past trauma took place.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Anxiety, Mentions of Enslavement (Genosha)

Word Count: 682

You allowed your mind to drift as you stared out the window of the jet. The vast expanse of ocean below made your stomach twist into knots. Remy noticed your frown and calmly grasped your hand in his.

"What's goin' on, Chere? Is everything okay?" He smiled sweetly, but you could feel the sweat on his palm.

You were returning to Genosha, where you and Remy had first met years ago. Back then, it was a place of enslavement and suffering, far from the mutant sanctuary it claimed to be now. Magneto insisted you needed to see its transformation—a place where mutants could thrive.

Reluctantly, after much persuasion from Gambit, you boarded the jet, now en route to Genosha.

"Oh, you know, just great, Remy. I feel like we're walking into the lion's den again." You squeezed his hand back, trying to mask your unease with sarcasm.

"I know it's difficult, but maybe the place has changed for the better. Everything's going to be okay, Chere."

The sinking feeling in your chest persisted. You knew better than to trust something that seemed too good to be true.

"We're here, dear," your father announced. You looked out to see a vast island of color. Your heart swelled at the sight of mutants with wings guiding the jet to the landing pad.

Putting your nagging thoughts aside, you exited the jet with your father and boyfriend.

Almost immediately, your best friend Kurt leaped into your arms, "Mein Freundin! I've missed you!"

After he released you, he hugged Remy. "And the thief! I've missed you as well! I'll be showing you around while the consul speaks to Magneto. Follow me and see the new and improved Genosha!"

An odd feeling churned in your stomach, but you forced yourself to stay open-minded as you stepped into the bustling world.

Mutants of all shapes and sizes surrounded you—some with wings, others with different colored skin, and some with serpentine features. It felt like home, but more like a community than a family, unlike the mansion.

Kurt led you through vibrant markets filled with fresh fruit, freshly caught fish, hand-knit goods, and other trinkets. You bought an assortment of fruits and baked goods to share with Remy, who gladly shared with you.

You arrived at an open area filled with dancing bodies and flashing lights. It wasn’t a party scene, but more a joyful reprieve from daily life. You pulled Remy into the crowd and began to dance.

"You better keep up, Remy!" you laughed, pulling him closer.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I was about to say the same thing to you, Chere!"

Kurt talked to the band, and they began playing a lively tune with a fun guitar riff.

As the music picked up, you and Remy twirled and spun, your movements synchronized and fluid. The world around you blurred into a swirl of bodies and quick feet.

You and Remy moved in perfect harmony. He pulled you close and spun you out with a flourish, your hands never leaving each other. The crowd clapped and stomped their feet with enthusiasm. The music swelled, and the world pulsed with life.

As you finished the dance, the crowd clapped for you, amazed by the moves Remy had taught you from his Louisiana roots.

Heat rose to your cheeks, but Remy quickly dipped you and gave you a small peck on the cheek. Then you were off again, moving through the streets as the music returned to its tropical beats.

Your walking slowed as Kurt stopped to talk to someone he knew.

You let your head fall onto Remy's shoulder. "That was the most fun I've had in a while."

He smirked at you. "Me too, Chere."

You looked up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm glad we came, Remy."

He wrapped his arms around your waist. "I'm glad too. This is much different from the last time we were here."

As the sun began to set, he gently rocked you and pressed a silent kiss to your forehead.

[good-night-space-kid]

Geology and The Terror

As a geologist who is incapable of turning off their geology brain even while watching shows for fun, one of the things that baffles me a bit about The Terror is why they continuously refer to the landscape as shale when both King William Island and the filming location in Pag, Croatia are dominated by limestone. Given the desolation of the landscape, the geology is rather at the forefront of many scenes so it was fun to try and parse it out as I watched.

King William Island, Nunavut, Canada

According to the official map of the bedrock of the region as published by the Canadian government (Harrison et al., 2015), the entirety of King William Island is mapped as dolostone, dolomitic limestone, and limestone with only minor components of shale, sandstone, conglomerate, and breccia. This is a shelf marine deposit dating back to the Late Cambrian, so this is very old sedimentary rock but younger than most of the surrounding hard rock that composes various parts of the Canadian shield. Notably, the pink units mapped on the Boothia Peninsula are Paleoproterozoic in age (2.5-1.6 billion years old), potentially up to 2 billion years older than the limestones of King William Island.

(This is an absolutely massive .pdf file with some scaled features so I would recommend viewing via the official publication to actually read anything or see fine details: publications.gc.ca/pub?id=9.557274&sl=0)

Notably, this map was published in 2015, 8 years after the novel was written. However, according to the bibliography for the map (which can be accessed via the previous link) a preliminary geologic map has existed for the area since at least 1967, though I was unable to track this publication down online. The novel was clearly thoroughly researched and Dan Simmons could have easily accessed this publication and others through multiple institutions.

The surficial geology of King William Island has also been mapped, and is predominantly glacial, as one would expect given it's location. For those unfamiliar with glacial geology processes, this is basically saying that the bedrock is buried under a bunch of glacial deposits. Glacial till is composed of rocks and sediments plucked from the bedrock and ground up. This is why the surface of the island is not one big rock, but a bunch of smaller pieces. Interestingly, the material on the southern part of the island is sandier because it contains more material derived from the Canadian Shield further south. If you're interested in glacial geology, I highly recommend zooming around a bit on Google Earth because the features here are GORGEOUS.

(This map is absolutely massive and the lines scale with zoom so it's hard to see at this resolution, access it here: publications.gc.ca/pub?id=9.834073&sl=0)

(Google Earth Pro, satellite imagery from 2020)

According to the surface geology map and Google Earth, the actual landscape of King William Island is much more water logged than it appears in the show. It's not entirely impossible that there has been some geomorphological change since 1848, but most of the features mapped would have been formed during the last ice age and as the glaciers melted and not more recently. This would have been handy for the men of the Franklin Expedition because each of these pools is filled with freshwater.

Pag, Croatia

Tracking down a geologic map of Croatia was somewhat challenging as I don't speak Croatian. I was able to find a map of the whole country, and while it's all in Croatian the symbol for the geologic time periods is universal so time periods can be correlated. This shows that the units that make up Pag are Cretaceous and Paleocene-Eocene in age.

(Map accessed here: https://www.hgi-cgs.hr/en/geoloska-karta-republike-hrvatske-1300-000/)

I was able to find a .pdf (access here: http://kig.kartografija.hr/index.php/kig/article/view/158/274) that had a bit more information on the map above but at a lower resolution. This states that the Cretaceous units are dominantly carbonates from the Adriatic sea and the Eocene units are also carbonates. This makes sense as both the Cretaceous and Paleocene-Eocene boundary/PETM are times of increased global temperature correlated with increases in global sea level.

As always, the best geology website out there, Macrostrat, also came through on the unit lithologies. I was unable to access the source listed on Macrostrat, but both the Cretaceous (green) and Paleocene-Eocene units (orange) are listed as limestone.

(Source: https://macrostrat.org/map/#x=16&y=23&z=2)

One of the best views that we get of the geology on Pag is the last scene with Bridgens in episode 9. During the zoom out of this scene we get a really nice view of the bedrock and debris covering it.

Given all of this, I'm really not sure where the landscape description as shale came from. If there is historical precedence for calling the rocks on the island shale, let me know! I have read a few books but none of the primary sources from the expeditions to this region, so if it comes from that I wouldn't be surprised.

Overall though, I have to say that the filming location was well chosen given the similarities it holds to the geology of King William Island.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XIII)

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Hi! Here is new chapter! Andrew’s reaction to the kiss…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2465

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Be drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

Charles Baudelaire, translation by Louis Simpson from Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology, originally published in Les petits poèmes en prose as “Enivrez-vous”, 1864

Andrew fell asleep out of exhaustion at one point, after tossing and turning for too long. But then, he woke up at dawn, around the time the sun was slowly turning the sky from inky to golden, and he couldn’t go back to sleep.

You had kissed him.

He let out a long exhale as he thought of the scene, pictured himself back on your sofa, with too much alcohol in his veins. Instead of your white ceiling, he could see your features all over again; from your messy hair to the burning fire in your gaze and your inviting lips. And then you were kissing him, he remembered closing his eyes without thinking. He remembered how his brain short-circuited then, how he forgot about everything in the world except for your lips on his and the warmth of your body against his own. And then your skin under his fingers, the softness of your hair, the brush of your breathing. He could have kissed you for hours, and perhaps he did, he couldn’t remember how long it lasted. Too long to be meaningless, that was for sure. Too long for him to pretend even to himself that it was unwanted.

And then he went to the bathroom in an attempt to gather his wits, but when he finally felt calmer again, once he had slowed down his heartrate, and he was walking back into the room, you were nowhere to be found. The door to your bedroom was closed, he guessed you had found refuge there.

His feet took him in front of the forbidden room, he stared at the imperfections carved in the wood of the door, the drops in the white paint. He raised his hand, fist closed, held it there for a moment, up in the air. But when he moved it closer to the door, his palm opened, seemingly on its own accord, and he didn’t knock. He merely rested his hand against the wood, thought about how soft your skin was, and remained standing there for a moment.

Should he try to come in? And for what? Talk about it? Huh… talk about what? There was nothing to talk about. You were drunk. You were drunk, and had acted without thinking and it didn’t mean a thing. You wanted Frank, and he wanted Samantha. You were colleagues, it would make everything complicated, too much so to be worth it. And anyway… anyway, there wasn’t even a reason to think about work. You didn’t want him. And he didn’t want you. You wanted to get your exes back, and you would, you had made an alliance for that. There was nothing to discuss about the kiss, about how much he liked it, about how he imagined knocking on your door now, and you opening it, and him kissing you again...

This was madness… he ought to control himself, to focus on his real goal, to fall back to reason. It was a mistake. You had made a mistake, and he ought to forget all about it.

He went to bed in silence, walking away from your door without knocking, unknowing of your struggle on the other side, of how much you hesitated to go knock on his door to kiss him again.

Instead, he went to the other bedroom, closed the door, and he fell asleep at long last, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up with him.

And now, there he was, lying in a bed in your home. He couldn’t hear any sound coming from the rest of your flat, and he wasn’t surprised. It was too early, and it was the weekend, and you had gotten drunk last night. You would probably wake up only in a few hours, and he decided that it would be best if he weren’t in your home when you got up. So, he sat up, a migraine piercing his skull after the excess of drinking from the previous night. He groaned as he got up, dizzy, head spinning as he rearranged the messy sheets, but he then moved to the door anyway.

He walked as quietly as he could in your home, allowed himself to drink a glass of water before gathering his things and leaving. He left a note on your kitchen table for you to find in the morning.

Thanks for letting me stay the night. I had a great time with you, thanks for the wonderful whiskey!

I’ll see you on Monday at the office.

Andy.

PS: there’s no need to mention again what happened last night. We were both drunk, we weren’t thinking straight. I’m not angry, nor upset. Let’s just forget about it, and never drink so much whiskey ever again.

Once he had gathered his things, was ready to depart, he threw one last glance towards the closed door of your bedroom. He ignored the tugging at his heart that came with him looking away, and leaving you behind.

You had kissed him.

No matter how hard Andrew tried not to think about it, he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t move passed it. Couldn’t erase the feeling of your lips on his, your fingers in his hair, the weight of your body leaning against his, the warmth of your breath fanning over his chin, the taste of your tongue as it slid over his…

He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes. Lying on his sofa, with his feet hanging over the edge, the furniture too small for his long frame, Andrew kept on replaying the scene in his head. He had spent the rest of his day trying not to think about you. He had taken a long walk with Elwood despite the rain, called his parents, called his brother, played some guitar, prepared a few things for his upcoming classes next week. He had kept himself busy, but it wasn’t working. You were always there, at the back of his mind. Now that the afternoon was slowly fading into evening, that the sun was almost gone and leaving behind its rays the light specks of starlight, Andrew was running out of excuses to avoid thinking about you. Now that he lied on his sofa, staring at his ceiling, all he could think of was that kiss. Or well, those kisses, rather. He would have been lying, had he pretended that what had happened had only lasted for one kiss. You had spent several minutes like this. Yeah, a long time. Christ...

He needed to forget this moment because it meant nothing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You were both drunk, not thinking straight, and after an awful night and torturing weeks of loneliness you both needed to feel less alone for a second. And that was it. Two friends who were attempting to cope with heartbreak, two friends who felt lonely, two friends who did something silly out of intoxication.

Nothing more.

And anyway, Andrew didn’t want you, he wanted Sam. He wanted Sam. Beautiful, funny, smart, impetuous Sam. The Sam who had been with him for eight years, who had been there through the most important changes of his life, Sam who made him wait but it was alright he could wait for her. Sam who didn’t share his interests, but that was okay, they had other things in common and he liked listening to her talk about what she loved.

He didn’t want you. Even if you were so fucking smart, it made his brain tingle in the best way to talk with you about literally anything. Even if you shared most of his interests and were curious about the things he loved that you knew nothing about. Even if you were hilarious, one of the few people able to make him genuinely laugh these days. Even if you were so damn strong, even now, even with your heart broken and your life in pieces. Even if you were beautiful, sometimes he couldn’t get passed that fact. Even if you were kind, the type of kindness that made him believe in humankind…

No, no, no, no! He wanted Sam. He wanted Sam, this was simply a mistake. He would not bring it up again, he would tell you nothing about it, he would ignore that it had happened altogether. You had shared a moment, you had shared a kiss, but it was a mere instant, a flicker, gone too fast, programmed to die out. A shooting star. One moment of solace that faded as quickly as it had appeared.

He tried to picture Sam instead, painted her face against his eyelids. But as soon as he didn’t consciously force himself to think of her, your lips were burning his again, and your hands cradled his cheeks, your skin so warm against his…

He opened his eyes, sat up in a jolt.

This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He was in love with Sam, he wanted her back, that was what this whole arrangement with you was about. And you wanted someone else too, you wanted Frank, you didn’t want Andrew…

Without thinking, his gaze drifted towards his coffee table and the smartphone that sat there. He touched the screen, making his lockscreen light up, a picture of Sam grinning appearing. He checked his notifications without unlocking his phone, but there was nothing. You hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Which was normal, there was nothing to discuss. You were probably busy anyway, you had mentioned that you had some chores to do today, and after the excesses of the previous night, you would need some rest. Besides, he had already told you not to mention the kiss again, so.

Well, kisses…

He tried very hard to deny that he was disappointed as he locked his phone. He couldn’t do it. He missed you. Which was crazy, because he had seen you last night, and he would see you tomorrow at work. He was just being silly. He needed to get it together… it was just a kiss. Nothing would come out of it.

None of you wanted a new relationship, you both wanted your exes, you both wanted what you had lost. You didn’t want to find anything, you wanted to claim back what was yours.

Although… Andrew didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand why you wanted Frank so bad. You could have better than him, you could have… someone who would care about your interests, someone who would listen, someone who would love you enough not to drag you along, someone who would be interested in what you had to say. How could Frank not be interested in what you had to say, anyway? Andrew thought back of a lunch break earlier that week, spent just the two of you in your office. Your conversation had wandered from politics about the economy and inflation, Mary Oliver’s poetry, Mavis Staples, your latest attempt at keeping a plant alive, Elwood’s latest mischief, abortion laws in Ireland, your favourite pasta dish, his mother’s art, and you had settled on attending a protest together next weekend that was organised to show support for the women who had been victims of the Magdalene laundries, before going back to work.

You had so much to say, about so many important and mundane things alike, and you were so brilliantly smart about all of it. And Frank was at best… faking interest? What was wrong with that man?

The image of Sam focused on her phone while he spoke flashed before his eyes, but he pushed it aside. It wasn’t the same, he… he wasn’t as interesting as you were, and besides… besides…

Was it not the same?

He rested his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands, heaved a long, aching sigh. Why was it all so difficult anyway? He didn’t feel like himself, hadn’t for a while, to be fair. Sometimes when he was teaching, he forgot about the pain that came with broken love, sometimes when he spent time with you and made you laugh, he was reminded that the world did not end with the heresy of losing someone he loved. The aching came back still, the emptiness he saw in his bed, on his couch, on the shelf of his bathroom, in the space between wanting and having. He should have known that the time spent with Sam, spent loving her, was only a loan. It was bound to end. Everything ended. Everything died in the end. The high that came with the euphoria of being in love, like a drug, was only a high, but reality had to come back, to slither in through the cracks of a dream that would be gone with the rising of dawn.

And anyway, the world was doomed, everything was going sour, there were wars and famine and people suffering, and in this crumbling sense of humanity, what was the point in loving at all? What was the point of holding the hope that something in this flitting world could last? A fool’s hope that would eventually collapse. It was pointless. Why would he want to love again? Why would he want Sam again, why… why would he want you?

Why would I want to love her when loving Sam wasn’t enough? Why would she want to love me when Sam gave up?

He could feel himself spiralling, knew it wasn’t healthy, tried to hold back the tears. And he thought of you, of your kisses, of your hands on him, of your mouth and your taste and the feeling of being human again that came with you wanting him, even if only for a moment.

Judging by how the past six months had gone by, Andrew thought he would not avoid it, the panic and the pain and the despair, that it would last a few hours at least. But then the thoughts came in verses, rhymes formed, the semblance of a rhythm, of a pattern, with words that carried meaning.

He looked up, blinked as he blankly stared at the dark screen of his tv. A void. Nothing. He couldn’t see it. He hurried to stand up, to head for his office, to grab the first piece of paper and the first pen he could find.

This was just the embryo of an idea, nothing structured, he would have to work on it, but it was something. The first thing he wanted to write in six months. The feeling of relief that came with tracing each letter was indescribable.

It started with two simple questions. He wrote them thinking of you. Thinking of you and him. Thinking of your lips on his, as a way to accept that he wanted to feel them again.

Why would you be loving?

Why would you be loved?

[recycledmoviecostumes]

The costume, initially designed by Jenny Beavan for Sienna Miller, made its debut in the 2005 film Casanova, where Miller portrayed the character Francesca Bruni. It was then reused in En kongelig affære (A Royal Affair) by Alicia Vikander, who played Caroline Mathilde. Finally, the costume appeared in the first season of Poldark in 2015, worn by Sally Dexter as Mrs. Chynoweth.

Over the years, the gown, which Cosprop owns, has been displayed in various exhibitions. One notable exhibition called Cinematic Couture showcased original costumes from films such as Ever After, Onegin, Miss Potter, and Becoming Jane.

In 2024, the gown was put up for auction by Kerry Taylor Auctions as part of their “Lights Camera Auction,” which featured costumes from Cosprop. The auction house provided a description of this piece:

This elegant gown, designed by Jenny Beavan and labeled by Cosprop with the actor’s name, is a replica of a 1750s-style robe a l’anglaise. It is made of blue and gold silk woven with floral patterns and adorned with gold lace rosettes and lace cuffs. The front bodice features a tasseled bow. The costume also includes a black cotton bustle pad, labeled by Cosprop, with approximate measurements of 86cm (34in) bust and 61cm (24in) waist.

This costume was worn in the masquerade ball scene. Designer Jenny Beavan said of the gown:

“The 18th century is a very flattering period for women, and you can move with ease in the corsets if they are properly fitted! I used this shade of blue a lot on Sienna / Francesca, but this dress is the grandest version of it. Characters ‘find’ their colors in my world. As I said, I am very instinctive and tend not to overthink things … having done the research and seen what the Art Dept, Camera, etc. are up to so, we are all on the same page. A good film normally has great teamwork behind as well as in front of the camera.”

Costume Credit: Dorina_97

Follow: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram

[literaryvein-reblogs]

"Model Making Mischief" Raimundo de Madrazo y Garreta (c. 1885)

In Raimundo de Madrazo's prolific production, most of which was executed in Paris, where he settled when very young, his paintings featuring his favourite model, Aline Masson, are numerous. He depicted her in the most varied attitudes, poses and dress, whether in full-, bust- or half-length portraits or in genre paintings with other figures. When he painted her on her own it was almost always full-length, in costume or at the centre of a scene often with some degree of anecdotal content.

Here he depicted her in his studio during a rest from posing. She has approached the canvas to examine a sketch of herself and has audaciously painted a caricature of the artist, who is apparently looking on.

Despite the inconsequential theme and his insistence on including decorative elements in his pictures, here Raimundo de Madrazo demonstrated the extraordinary flair for painting female portraits that brought him such fame with contemporary Parisian high society. It is also evident in the soft, sensuous modelling of the flesh tones and his astounding ability to reproduce the qualities of the fabrics and the jewellery with which he adorned his model. From the compositional point of view, particularly striking is the ease with which he was able to construct a narrative theme, however slight, with a single figure and using resources typical of Baroque painting, in this case making a figure outside the field of vision an accessory to the scene.

Despite the apparent casualness of the image, a certain stiffness in the model's posture and an inexpressiveness in her gesture conferring an almost mannequin-like coldness upon her actually underline both the model's premeditation of her pose and her professionalism.

On the other hand, despite its purely incidental presence, the barely discernible figure in the painting on the easel still displays Madrazo's amazing confidence and his ability to suggest, with a few rapid touches of the paintbrush, the basic female contours, the volume of the flesh tones and the light on the model's dress.

The painting was sold at auction in 1989 with the title "En el estudio" ("In the Studio").

Source

[beidak-art]

hii (♡˙︶˙♡) i've seen several art pieces of yours on ulrich von jungingen, and i'm really interested in knowing more about him! do you know any reliable english translations for 'knights of the cross'? >_<

i love your work so much!!

Oh thanks for asking, I was not expecting that ^^

Unfortunately, you might be disappointed because you won’t learn much from either the books or the movie adaptation. I'm just crazy enough to dig in it. Most of the content I create around him is entirely my own contribution to the story, for which I rely on my headcanons and historical guesses and facts.

In the book, although he plays a fairly significant role, Ulrich is a very minor character. However, if you want to read it in English, there are many translations available, for example here: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Knights_of_the_Cross There's more of him in the movie adaptation; he has a few scenes, and overall more attention is focused on him. I mainly base my content on his movie version. If you'd like, you can watch it with English subtitles here: https://35mm.online/en/vod/feature-films/knights-of-the-teutonic-order There is, of course, also a Wikipedia article about him as a historical figure: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulrich_von_Jungingen

Enjoy the unnecessary knowledge!

[celli-ohs]

and scene!

A seven-part written series taking place at EN High School, featuring Enhypen, with supporting roles from Tomorrow x Together, &Team, BoyNextDoor, Fromis_9, Le Sserafim, NewJeans and Illit. Loosely based off of Enhypen's official series En-Drama.

Author's Note: this is going to be a rollercoaster folks! I wanted to basically make a crack/fluff version of En-Drama. I thought the stereotypes they put the members in were cute and fitting of them, but was like "what if I made them all losers lol" and that's how this series was born! disclaimer, the plots for my works are not the same as En-Drama, this is all just for shits and giggles! btw, everything is connected, so stay tuned for each member! lmk who you're most excited to read!!

Status: ongoing

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist

and scene! masterlist

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

socially awkward!park sunghoon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

Show Must Go On

secret softie!park jongseong x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you told the waitress to give your compliments to the chef, you didn't expect the chef to come out and thank you personally, and you really didn't expect the chef to be your classmate Park Jongseong. Realizing how bad this could be, he has you keep it a secret. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do he thinks, but you're full of surprises- and slip ups.

Lights, Curtains, Action!

popular!sim jaeyun x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You weren't a very sociable person. Sure you had some friends, but you preferred to stay home on your days off. Your family has other plans though, and you're forced to explore the great outdoors during summer break. On your adventure, you never thought you'd find rowdy Sim Jaeyun, otherwise known as Jake, sitting patiently at the docks waiting for a single fish to bite his line. You also never thought he'd reel in your missing shoe before an actual fish.

All the World's a Stage

younger!kim sunoo x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

You've known Kim Sunoo since middle school when your friend Jake introduced him to you as his 'little brother'. He was a sweet and funny boy. But over the summer, something changed with Sunoo and suddenly you feel your heart skipping a beat every time he looks your way. You'd think he's finally grown up and matured, but there he goes again, quoting some random romcom and you're reminded he'll never see you the way you do him. Or does he?

Tough Act to Follow

loser!lee heeseung x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

This had to be a mistake. It couldn't be true, how could you end up being seatmates with the biggest loser in school, Lee Heeseung?! You can feel your social status plummeting with every word he speaks to you. But on a late walk from the convenience store, you witness something that changes your view of Heeseung drastically. And maybe he's right, the Sonic the Hedgehog movie is actually kinda good.

Break a Leg

tease!nishimura riki x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

Nishimura Riki was the bane of your existence. You can't tell where your hatred for him begins and ends. Every day is a constant battle of teasing between the two of you, and you have had it. One day after an accident, Riki shows his true colors and now his insults start to make your heart race, and it's not because you're angry. Surely you've caught something, right?

No Business Like Show Business

student body president!yang jungwon x reader; high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

When you flunked that math test, you didn't think it was that serious- until your teacher assigned you a tutor: Yang Jungwon, student body president. Honestly, you didn't really know the guy, he seemed like the type to be strict and responsible. Except he isn't, Jungwon is just some guy. You'd argue he's even worse at math than you. His friends thought it'd be funny to elect him as president when the poor boy was out for a pee break. So now you're wondering if you should get a tutor for both of you.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

One Messed Up Bat

Batfamily x Reader

wc: 1.2K pairing: platonic!reader x Batfamily summary: One of them finds you having a breakdown warnings: sh, blood, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. a/n: inspired by @thatwritterbeach, I don't usually write for a topic like this, (RULES), but I thought this would be a good quick thing to write. I really tried to keep some parts as vague as possible, but please don't read if you're struggling with similar issues. Reach out if you need help

988Lifeline

Please remember you are not alone. there's still hope and people who care and love you.

»You can‘t keep acting like a child, I done with this.«

Dick whispered in a harsh voice, through gritted teeth. It‘s been a long week of patrolling and you were disobeying orders more often to help even more people. Or more specific, getting distracted by minor issues.

»I will not apologise for helping people— «

»You disobeyed orders, again. You could have gotten hurt or hurt us as well. There‘s no space for you to get distracted over small things.«

He interrupts you sharply, leaving the batcave dead silent. With a quiet exhale, he speaks up more softly.

»You are benched until further notice.«

»You can‘t— «

»Benched.« Bruce confirms, leaving the conversation without another word. It feels unfair to be treated like this for helping some people out that weren‘t the main issue at the missions earlier. It was draining.

◐

»Hey, Dick… do you have a sec?« You ask through the phone, holding it close to your ear. As another sob threatens to leave your lips, you bite down firmly into your hand, muffling the noise out.

»No, you‘re still benched.«

He answers back without even giving you a chance to explain, being still mad at you. It‘s only been roughly a week.

With a heavy sigh, you scoff at him.

»That‘s— you know what, fuck off.«

After hanging up abruptly, you toss your phone onto your bed, heading quickly to your en-suite bathroom. It feels like there‘s no other way than to release some built up frustration and anger.

◐

Loud shouts of your name are being heard before Damian yanked the bathroom door open, halting once he sees the scene in front of him. He seemed almost elevated before he skipped to your room to show you his latest drawing, but now he looks deathly concerned.

There‘s some droplets of blood near you on the bathroom tiles, a bladein your hand while you try to hide your injured arm. It doesn‘t work, Damian connects the dots quickly.

But before you could stop Damian and explain, he is out and drags Tim to your bathroom, begging him to fix you. It breaks your heart even more, realising you have no way of hiding and can‘t explain this. Loose bandages lay around, your medkit next to them in an desperate attempt to patch yourself up from earlier.

»Damian. Give us a minute.« Tim‘s face looks dark, shadows falling over his features which make him look more intimadating than concerned. The younger one finally manages to calm down and retreats form the doorway, giving you both privacy.

It feels unreal. You slump back, sitting down at the edge of your bathtub as soon as you feel your legs start to get weak.

Tim doesn‘t talk, picking up some bandages from your medkit before reaching for the antiseptic and faces you. He kneels down and treats your injured arm, his touch being so gentle, it seems as if he is afraid of hurting you even more.

»You know I have to tell.«

He finally speaks up, keeping his gaze trained on your arm and carefully wraps it up, making sure it‘s not too tight or loose.

»Please don‘t.« You plead quietly, voice shaky and thin-sounding. This only makes Tim sigh out exhausted, knowing this will be a long argument if he won‘t make himself clear to you.

»Those are deep,« he gently puts his hand over your bandaged forearm, focusing on you, »they almost need stitches and I‘ve never seen Damian this afraid before. You can‘t go through this alone.«

Tim stays knelt in front of you, his hand travelling down to hold onto yours in a reassuring grip. He knows he is not the best in comforting people, but he will do anything to make this stop.

»It‘s not that serious, I‘ve had way worse. This is just another one of my stupid— «

He interrupts you with a hug, shutting you up immediately. You don‘t know how to react to it, wrapping your good arm around him in a loose grip. Tim lets go, keeping his eyes on you as if to make sure you won‘t disappear.

»I need to tell Dick, at least.« You shake your head quickly, still hoping this could be a secret only you know about. But it‘s too late, there‘s no way you could get away from this.

»No...«

»I need to tell someone.«

You huff out frustrated, trying to argue against him, but Tim speaks up more firmly.

»Either Bruce or Dick. They‘ll find out either way, and you aren‘t doing this alone.«

He stands before you, giving you a few seconds to think and collect yourself as you continue to sit at the edge of the bathtub.

»I can‘t stop you, can I?«

He shakes his head slightly, crossing his arms. »Not a chance.«

With a final sigh, you open up about this all the while he listens and keeps his eyes on you, eventually helping with cleaning the mess up around the bathroom.

He gets why you didn‘t get any help before, why you‘ve been hiding it ever since and what drove you to this point. And he can‘t help but feel guilty. There‘s always been some kind of bond between you two, having seen you as his older sibling. Seeing you this broken and defeated is new and scary to him. Still, he feels it‘s his responsabilty to get you help from everyone.

Tim made a phone call to Dick first once he got outside onto his balcony, leaving you with a hot chocolate together with Damian in the main area.

»Get home. Someone here needs serious help and I need everyone to help.«

He is not the one to beat around the bush, getting straight to the point with Dick. His older brother is concerned, having no real idea of what‘s about to happen once he gets off the train and to the manor. The second call was made to Jason, who seemed more than busy at the moment. But he promised to be there in a few hours either way.

Lastly, Tim tried to reach out to Bruce, but he didn‘t pick up or read his messages. It didn‘t help the situation, leaving him angry and bitter.

Getting back to the main area, he sits down beside you, just waiting for Dick to arrive and get you some more comfort. The hot chocolate and cookies from Alfred helped a lot already, the rather annoying company of Damian was a strange reassurance that not everything is lost.

»What happened?«

Dick finally reaches the couch, shrugging his jacket off while lookig between you three. Alfred‘s standing back, observing the interaction from afar.

Exchanging a brief glance with Tim, he speaks up and explains it briefly to Dick, making his heart drop. The older brother doesn‘t hesitate to wrap you into a tight hug, apologising repeatedly and looking over you as if to make sure you aren‘t hurt in any more areas.

You end up being huddled up with the three of them on the couch, some cartoon playing on the big TV as you all share a big blanket. Jason arrives at last, being confused about the view before he just joins in, sitting down at the other end of the couch while watching the cartoon as well.

988 Lifeline

←MASTERLIST

[everybodyhatesmiddleschool]

It has been six excruciating days since I was plunged into the Bridgerton fandom against my will.

I was minding my own business, watching YouTube compilations of the best kisses in TV history, when I unwittingly clicked on a video about Colin and Penelope, and I was immediately down so bad for them.

Let me be clear: Bridgerton was not part of my life before I clicked on that video. I wanted nothing to do with it; I had no intention of ever watching or reading that smut. And then, without warning, it swept in and took me in the night, much like Colin Bridgerton in the back of a carriage.

To say I have been lost in the sauce these past six days would be a gross understatement. The carriage scene is literally ruining my life. I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. since Sunday, and I have been over an hour late to work every day. Why? Because I cannot stop consuming that godforsaken scene — watching gifs of it over and over, reading y’all’s hilarious takes and memes about it, watching it with the audio descriptions turned on (🥵), watching it with the music removed (🥵🥵), watching Luke and Nicola on their press tour, watching, watching, watching.

Have I started actually watching season 1 of the show? Of course. Did I check out the large-print version of the first book from the library since it was the only copy available? You bet. But I do not care about these other characters and storylines. I want it to be Colin and Penelope on the screen and the page in every sentence and every scene.

And either fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t even have to be looking at a screen to be distracted by them — my daydreaming has never been as maladaptive in my life as it has been this week. I can hardly think of one ten-minute stretch in the past six days in which some imaginary scenario has not been taking over my brain. I want to be part of their world so bad — not just Bridgerton, but Shondaland. As is the case for 90% of all of my daydreams, I want these actors to know I exist. I want them to look at me with just as much awe and love as I look at them. So I might be staring at my computer screen in my cubicle, but in my mind, I’m on a press tour of my own that intersects with theirs. (I’m never the desperate fan with no life in my dreams; my idols always see me as their equal). I might be driving my commute in my car, but in my mind, they’re congratulating me about my own novel being optioned by Netflix. I might be brushing my teeth in my bathroom, but in my mind, we’re laughing together on Graham Norton’s couch.

But Lord, here comes that freaking carriage scene once again, inserting itself into my mind (pun unavoidable). I cannot get over it. I’m so stuck there that I’ve found myself wearing shoes I don’t remember putting on, carrying coffee mugs I don’t remember putting in my bag, driving a speed limit I don’t remember agreeing to as acceptable. There is laundry that needs to be folded. Bills need to be paid. Emails need to be deleted en masse without reading. But I can’t find the door that will let me out of this damn carriage.

I had a conversation with myself two days ago about how we might be able to adapt to this new living situation. After a few temper tantrums, I finally said, “Girl, if you’re going to watch this scene 1,000 times, you have got to find a way to make it a constructive part of your life.” So I did what any rational adult would do: I started writing a scholarly paper about why it’s so powerful — not just for me but, according to the internet, for a lot of women. And I have every intention of writing an entire paper about this … if I can find the time. I’m just so busy right now with consuming this damn scene.

Was starting to write that article enough to satiate my obsession with this scene, with this show and these actors? Of course not. So this morning, I started writing a spicy scene of my own, featuring not Colin and Penelope but two other vaguely outlined characters who I’m sure I’ll give names and personalities to later. I was literally sitting in my cubicle, hunched over my planner, writing down snippets of sexiness in as small a print as possible in case someone walked up on me and looked over my shoulder without me noticing. And I’m not gonna lie: this shit’s good. I’ve never written smut before, because I’ve never had enough spice in my own life to feel like I’d be able to do it justice on paper. But that imagination of mine — she’s a freak. And my mind? My mind has moved way past the gutter. It is now in the outhouse. It’s in the slop with the pigs.

It should have come as no surprise, but as usual, the act of actually writing down the jumble of mess in my brain has had the effect of breaking some of the spell. I was also forced to focus on work because of looming deadlines, and I currently feel calmer than I have since Sunday. But I am truly living in fear of June 13. I cannot go through this again, and I know that I’m bound to, because I know that what’s been shown so far won’t hold a candle to what’s coming. And if I get down bad any further, I will be deep enough in the ground for this to become my final resting place. I’m not ready to be buried, but it feels inevitable.

But somehow, despite my own wants and fears, and despite the fact that we haven’t even been introduced yet to the bedroom where Colin and Penelope are sure to end up, I am somehow already lurking from behind the window curtains in the corner, peeking out at them doing the deed. I know what I hope I’ll see: based on the excerpt I’ve seen from the book, they will be in front of a mirror — expressly because Colin wants Penelope to see herself in full for the glorious goddess she is, and she will look at her sexy, bare self with just as much pride and love as we viewers behind the screen will (but probably with slightly less lust than Colin, who I pray will be very loud about how hot she is).

I am dreaming about this scene, but I dread it. Because if it’s as good as the carriage scene, I will immediately be re-enscripted and sent right back to the trenches where I spent the last six days. I’m excited, but I’m scared. And I’m afraid of getting lost in the woods again, because I know that if I do, I won’t want to be found.

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

New post: "Eddie Redmayne to reprise Fantastic Beasts role in new scenes for Universal experience tying Beasts to Harry Potter films".

EW has confirmed Redmayne filmed new scenes as Newt Scamander, while Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint also appeared in Universal Epic Universe’s preview.

Have you ever dreamed of traveling the Floo Network like your favorite Harry Potter stars? What about taming a fantastic beast (or several) with the flick of a wand in Paris? Universal Orlando's upcoming theme park, Universal Epic Universe, is set to cast a spell that will turn that fantasy into a reality when its new Wizarding World of Harry Potter — Ministry of Magic land opens in 2025.

Entertainment Weekly has confirmed through a source that franchise star Eddie Redmayne will reprise his Fantastic Beasts role as Newt Scamander in the new land, with his new, already-filmed scenes set to appear throughout. Ministry of Magic is touted as the most elaborate of the planned park's five new themed areas, fusing timelines from the eight main Harry Potter films with the three Fantastic Beasts movies. The narratives will converge on a massive plot of land spanning 1920s Paris and 1990s London as guests travel to and from both destinations using the Métro Floo transportation network to dart back and forth.

Partially set within the British Ministry of Magic, the land's marquee attraction will be Harry Potter and the Battle at the Ministry, which will take travelers on a first-of-its-kind adventure using new omnidirectional technology that allows ride vehicles to travel through sprawling environments in vessels that move up, down, forward, backward, and sideways along one of the company's "most impressive attractions to date," according to a press release.

The ride's story puts guests on a journey from Paris to the British Ministry of Magic for the trial of Dolores Umbridge (played by Imelda Staunton in the films). Visitors enter through the organization's grand atrium (as seen in the Harry Potter movies) ahead of the trial until things go wrong when Umbridge attempts to escape. Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint), Hermione Granger (Emma Watson), and a house elf named Higgledy eventually accompany riders along the pursuit of Umbridge. (EW has reached out to representatives for Radcliffe, Watson, Grint, and Redmayne for comment on their potential return.)

Outside of the main ride, the Ministry of Magic section will feature a live show, Le Cirque Arcanus, billed as a full-scale theater experience with live performers and aerialists, puppetry, special effects, and fantastic beats appearing throughout the production, which follows Ringmaster Skender after he steals Newt Scamander's suitcase.

Consistent with Universal's other Harry Potter-themed parklands, the Ministry of Magic section includes merchandise locations that sell wands and other franchise materials, namely the focal wand location Cosme Acajor Baguettes Magique. Here, attendees can purchase wands and then use them to interact with fantastic beasts sprinkled throughout the Parisian locale.

Harry Potter characters are also set to roam the land, including exchange students from Hogwarts and Ilvermorny schools, an Auror from the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France, and even talking portraits.

Dining locations include Café L'Air De La Sirène, Le Gobelet Noir, Bar Moonshine, and a Bièraubeeurre Cart (translation: this is where you can get Butterbeer) — all joined by other smaller shops like Les Galeries Mirifiques, a sweets shop cleverly named K. Rammelle, and Tour En Floo, a gift store inspired by the magic of the Floo Network.

📷 Eddie Redmayne, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Daniel Radcliffe in Universal Epic Universe preview. Universal Creative