#If I'm not guess I will have to live with it but at least without spider?

[sugardollcurse]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓

꒰ pairing ꒱ george harrison x reader

꒰ summary ꒱ you’re a florist’s apprentice. the boys stop in to buy flowers for an interview shoot. george asks you what the meanings of the flowers are, and listens. really listens.

꒰ note ꒱ i'm so proud of this i think

The bell above the shop door jingled with a sound so familiar you didn’t bother to look up. It was the middle of a Thursday, early spring, and the windows were still a little fogged from the morning's chill. Your hands were buried in a bucket of cool water and daffodil stems, fingertips tingling from the cold, when you heard a chorus of vaguely familiar voices. “No, Paul, it’s not for you. It’s fer the camera. You don’t need to pick the pinkest ones.”

“‘Course I do, don’t want my complexion lookin’ grey in that shot.”

“Oh, sod off, you’re always hoggin’ the spotlight.”

You blinked. Froze a moment. Looked up... slowly.

They were there. Not just people. Them.

The Beatles.

Real. In your shop. Or at least, the shop you apprenticed at, tucked on the corner of a street just shy of town center. They looked like they'd just wandered in off the street, which, well, they had. No entourage, no screaming fans. Just four young men in tailored coats and those mop-top haircuts you'd seen in magazines and on telly and... right there. In front of the hydrangeas.

You dried your hands on your apron without thinking, watching as Paul turned a bunch of roses this way and that, critiquing the hue like he was selecting paint for a living room wall. John was already halfway to bored, poking at the baby’s breath and pretending to sneeze dramatically into it. Ringo peered curiously at a row of chrysanthemums.

And George was standing still.

He wasn’t talking. Just looking around. He had one hand in his coat pocket, and the other gently grazing the edge of a display bucket filled with lilies.

You moved forward before your brain fully caught up.

“Um. Can I help you?”

They all turned toward you like a school of fish changing direction, but it was George who answered.

“Yeah, ta. We’re doin’ a shoot later. Some magazine thing. They want us holdin’ flowers. We wanted to look for the flowers ourselves.” His accent was thick with Liverpool, low and smooth like the underside of a river stone. “Don’t know why. Just want us lookin’ ‘springy’, apparently.

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Seasonal.”

“Yeah. Flowers ‘n all. Makes sense, I s’pose.”

You expected him to wander off again, maybe nudge Ringo or roll his eyes with John. But instead, George kept looking at you. Curious. Not impatient. He leaned a little closer, chin tilted toward the bucket you’d been sorting.

“What do these ones mean?” he asked, gesturing.

You blinked. “The daffodils?”

“Mm.”

You hesitated a beat. “Rebirth. New beginnings. Some say unrequited love.”

That made his eyebrows lift. “S’pose they couldn’t make up their minds either, eh?”

You smiled faintly. “It depends on the culture. But yeah, most flowers have a few meanings. Layers, I guess.”

George hummed like that meant something to him. Then turned toward the rest of the display, eyes scanning slowly.

“What about those?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of delicate white blooms... sweet alyssum.

“Sweetness of soul,” you said. “And serenity.”

He nodded once, then twice, like he was filing that away. Not just hearing you, listening. You could almost see it, the way his attention lingered. Not on your apron, or your hands, or your face in that glassy, half-present way most customers did. But all of you. As if your voice, your knowledge, your presence, all of it held weight.

“What’re you gettin’ all poetic for?” John called from the corner. “It’s just a bunch of petals, George.”

George didn’t even turn. “They’ve got meanings, y’know.”

John made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “So do I, but you don’t see me wrapped in cellophane.”

Paul shook his head, still fussing with a bouquet. “Can we just pick somethin’ already? We’ve got to be at the studio in half an hour.”

“Go on, then,” George said. But he didn’t move away from you. He pointed to a spiky stalk of delphinium. “That one?”

“Dignity,” you said. “Sometimes grace. But in the old Victorian guides, it could also mean fun, or lightness.”

He gave a small smile. “Nice mix, that. Like a posh joker.”

“I guess so.”

He went quiet for a moment, then offered his hand. “I’m George.”

You shook it before thinking. “I know.”

He tilted his head. “Do you?”

Your fingers slipped away, a bit too warm now. “Everyone does.”

“Dunno about that,” he said, but didn’t press it. “What’s your name?”

You told him. Something about the way he repeated it, quietly, as if testing the shape of it in his mouth... made it bloom behind your ribs.

“I think I’d like a bunch that means somethin’,” he said. “Not just for the photo. You’ve got a good sense for it.”

You nodded. “Alright. Give me a minute.”

You moved on instinct, half-aware of his gaze following as you plucked stems from across the room. An iris for wisdom. A sprig of lavender for devotion. A single hellebore for serenity in the face of challenge. You weren’t sure why your fingers chose those, only that they felt right. Then something softer, a wild pansy, delicate and thoughtful. And at the last moment, a bloom of peony. Passion. A quiet flame.

You handed them over in a tied bouquet, no frills. George took it gently, like it was a glass bird.

“Thanks,” he said.

He looked down at them, then back at you. “Think I’ll remember this.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just nodded. A beat passed. Then another.

And then Paul whistled. “Come on, George, don’t fall in love in the flower shop, we’ve got telly to do!”

George rolled his eyes, but still lingered another moment.

“See you ‘round,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.

Then the bell rang again, and they were gone.

You didn’t expect him to come back.

But he did. A week later.

You were arranging window baskets when the bell chimed, and you glanced up, already speaking.

“We’re out of tulips until Tuesday, I’m afraid-”

“Wasn’t comin’ for tulips.”

You froze. Then turned.

George stood in the doorway, hands in his coat pockets again, hair messier than last time. A little windblown. A little tired.

But smiling.

“Oh,” you said. Brilliantly. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

There was a pause. The air smelled like eucalyptus and lemon balm, and your knees suddenly felt like water.

“I liked the flowers,” he said, after a beat. “Didn’t just look good in the photo. Felt… right. Like they meant somethin’.”

“I’m glad.”

Another pause. He stepped closer, slow. Like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“D’you mind if I ask about a few more?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Of course not.”

So you did. You walked him through meanings again, deeper this time. Into forgotten symbols, language barely spoken anymore. He listened like it was music. Like your voice had chords. Sometimes he’d ask strange things, like:

“If you were a flower, which one would you be?”

You thought. “Maybe a thistle.”

He laughed. “Prickly?”

You shrugged.

He tilted his head. “Yeah. I see that.”

And sometimes he'd point and ask, “What would you never give someone?”

You answered. “Yellow carnation. Rejection. Contempt.”

George raised his eyebrows.

“Brutal, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” His gaze stayed on the flowers a moment longer, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Flowers’ve got more bite than I thought.”

You nodded. “That’s why people used to take them so seriously. Whole courtships, built on what someone handed you in a nosegay.”

That made him laugh under his breath. “Suppose I’d best brush up, then.”

“You planning to court someone?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave you a small smile and changed the subject, easy as water slipping through cracks.

It was two days later when you opened the shop early, fog still hugging the pavement, keys cold in your palm, and found something leaning against the front door.

A single bloom. Pale, soft, and unmistakable.

A moonflower.

You crouched without thinking, brushing a finger along the velvet white petals. It had been left gently, carefully, wrapped in a twist of brown paper and twine. Not one of yours. Not from your buckets or any arrangement in the shop. In fact, you hadn’t seen a moonflower around here in months. Not since late summer, when they crept open only at night, shy and glowing under moonlight.

And yet, there it was. Waiting.

You unlocked the door with your breath held and brought it inside like it might dissolve in your hands. There was no note. No explanation. Just that singular bloom, unfurled with something like trust.

You pressed it into water, heart thudding.

George didn’t come that day.

Or the next.

You tried not to wonder about it too much. He was famous. Busy. You told yourself he was probably in another city. Probably recording, or flying, or being asked to smile for someone else’s camera.

But you couldn’t stop looking at the moonflower. Turning it over in your mind. In the language of flowers, it meant dreaming of love. Of waiting in the quiet dark, hoping for something that blooms when no one’s watching. It must've been from him. You knew it was.

He came back the morning after that.

The bell above the door rang, and you were elbow-deep in ivy stems, not expecting anything. Not anymore.

But then there he was. Same coat, collar upturned. Eyes a little tired. Hands in his pockets.

You stared. “You left a flower.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Did I?”

“Moonflower.”

“Sounds romantic,” he said, and his lips twitched like he couldn’t quite hide the smile. “D’you like it?”

You tried not to beam, tried not to let it show, but you knew it was already there in your voice. “Where’d you get it?”

He shrugged, but it was a loaded one. “Got a bloke I know. S’pose I could’ve asked you, but I wanted it to be... right.”

“You remembered what it meant.”

“‘Course I did.”

He moved closer, quiet, careful. The hum of traffic outside seemed very far away. And then:

“What’s your favourite?” he asked, low and rough-edged, like it cost him something.

You looked at him, really looked. His eyes were soft but searching, wide with a kind of wonder you weren’t used to being the subject of.

“I don’t know,” you said. “It changes.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You hesitated. Then: “Snowdrops. First ones to bloom in winter. They’re not flashy. They just… come back.”

George nodded slowly, the answer sitting somewhere deep in his chest. “Hope,” he murmured.

You smiled. “You remembered that too.”

Another pause, close enough now that you could smell his cologne, soft, musky, clinging faintly to the lapels of his coat.

Then he reached into his pocket.

“I brought you somethin’,” he said, almost shy.

He pulled out a single sunflower. Like he just plucked one on his way here. Like he’d taken painful care of it.

Your breath caught.

“George-”

He didn’t hand it to you yet. Just looked at it. Then you. “D’you reckon that’s a bit too obvious?”

“No,” you said, voice small. “It’s nice.”

This time, when he passed it to you, his fingers lingered.

You took it like it was something sacred.

He stayed after that.

Not every day. But enough that your coworkers stopped asking. Enough that your boss raised a brow once, then smirked and let it go.

He didn’t bring flowers every time, but he brought other things. Stories, poems he’d read, a sandwich he thought you might like. Once, a record he said reminded him of you. You never told him how many nights you played it on repeat, how your room filled with his voice and the soft thrum of longing.

He told you about Liverpool. About the road. About how everything felt fast and far too loud sometimes.

You told him about your old garden. The one you left behind. How you still missed the smell of wet earth after it rained.

He said, “I think that’s why I like you. You talk like you’re rooted in something.”

You said, “I think you’re still growing.”

The first time he kissed you, it wasn’t a moment. Not like in books.

It was just after closing, and he was helping you sweep. You’d turned off the front lights, and the whole shop was dusky with the last light of the sun. You said something about peonies again, how they always reminded you of quiet wants. Of things that aren’t said, but felt.

And then he was kissing you. Like the answer had bloomed inside him all at once.

It was soft. No fanfare. No rush.

Just yes.

Your fingers brushed the back of his neck, his coat collar, the edge of his cheek. And he held your face like he’d always been meant to.

When you parted, he rested his forehead to yours. “Took me too long.”

You whispered, “You got here.”

━━

Months passed.

Spring faded into something warm and golden. You got used to waking with flower petals in your pockets, your hair, sometimes your sheets. George would leave them like breadcrumbs, a violet on your windowsill. A primrose tucked into the strap of your bag. Once, a clover pressed between the pages of your notebook.

You started to learn him the way you’d learned flowers.

What his hands did when he was nervous. The weight in his voice when he was tired. The way he said your name, soft and reverent, like it was already part of a lyric.

And you knew. Deep down. That he’d never just breezed in.

He’d seen you.

Chosen you.

The same way you chose each flower: not for flash. Not for show.

But for meaning.

One evening, as summer stretched lazy across the horizon, he walked you home.

The street smelled of jasmine and distant bonfires. He held your hand, warm and steady.

“D’you think we’ll last?” he asked suddenly.

You looked at him. “Us?”

He nodded.

You thought for a moment. Then:

“Some flowers bloom once and never again. But some come back every year.”

George looked at you like that meant more than anything. Like it was the kind of answer that could keep him going when the world spun too fast.

“I’ll come back,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

He leaned in, kissed your temple. Then your cheek.

And finally, your lips, like a slow season turning, like a new petal unfolding in the dark.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

Hi! So I’ve been into shy nerdy Noah lately. Can you please write a one shot about Noah who’s really shy and geeky like he’s never had any womanly contact before, but turn it into a smut

Nerdy Noah you say? I got you! (And I'm sorry this took entirely too long to post) I hope you like it!

Tag List: @bloody-spades @chey-h

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please go here.

Smut below the cut!

Noah had spent most of his life mastering playing video games but zero-time mastering women.

For being a tall boy that was heavily tattooed much less the singer of a very prominent hardcore band you would guess that what you couldn't see from his twitch streams how he adorns the other side of the wall with comic book and action figures

But that started to change after he met you. his neighbor.

You had both crossed paths once or twice, just casual good morning or good afternoons, but nothing more.

So, he was just as surprised when one day you knocked on his door.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I'm having trouble setting up my new tv on the wall, and I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't know who to call, I'm new here" you take a deep breath, "oh god I'm rambling. So would you be able to help me?"

There was no denying you thought he was handsome and the thought of having to ask for his help made you nervous but here you were.

"Yeah... yes. of course, no problem i will help you." he said a bit shy which was something you didn't expect all

Of course, you knew zero to nothing about it except for the fact that he lived next door to you.

With a smile you signaled him to follow you into your home. you showed him the living room where you had already unboxed the tv.

"Thank you once again for helping me, I don't know what I'm doing with this sort of thing," you said and gave him a sheepish smile.

All he could do was nod. You quickly realized that maybe he wasn't much of a talker as he got to work on setting up the tv on your wall.

You watched as he got to work and you tried to not ogle too much but something about him made your eyes be glued to him. His bright tattoos, his comically large hand. the way he focused on the task? you couldn't quite put your finger on it but there was something.

After about 40 minutes of you just staring at him while he worked, he finally finished.

"Uh, it's all done, tv is on the wall now, you can take a look" he said in quite possibly the smallest voice he could do. You find it a bit odd how he behaves. You would think that by the way he looks his confidence level would be out of this world, and he probably would have a line of girls waiting for his attention.

"It looks perfect thank you, i appreciate it so much, let me pay you for this, just let me grab m...." you started searching around for your wallet before he cut you off.

"Please don't. I don't. need to be paid.."

"Please? at least let me do something for you, i would feel horrible with you walking out of here and not getting nothing for your work"4

He just stared at you without saying anything.

The silence was making you a bit anxious, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Your girlfriend must be very lucky to have you and be able to do things like this."

He chuckles so subtlety that you barely noticed "I don't have a girlfriend actually"

"No way, you're tall, handsome and tattooed" you say without thinking and watch as he begins to turn a bit red.

Your feet started moving involuntarily towards him and in a matter of seconds you were standing in front of him.

Once again, he stayed silent just looking down at you with the softest bobba eyes you had ever seen.

You don't know what came over you but you grabbed his hand and felt the smallest twitch from him.

"You seem nervous, are you okay?"

"No... I mean yes... i mean, I've just never really been with this close to a girl before" he says with a nervous laugh

" How close?" Now you're intrigued.

"Like this" he looks down at your hand grabbing his.

"Oh" you say but don't make even the slightest attempt to move your hand. The little devil on your shoulder whispered into your ear to make a proposition that even you wouldn't dare say out loud but something came over you that you couldn't resist. "Okay you haven been close or touched by another woman?" you make a small pause not really expecting an answer. "Do you want to change that? I could help you out if you would like"

You could see the wheels turning inside his hand and before he could turn you down you started speaking again

“Ok I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.. i don't know what came over me” you nervously laugh

“Yes i want you to help me” he blurted out before you could continue

“You do? Okay yes i can do that” you guided him over to the sofa where you had him sit down and without a second thought you straddled him. “Is this okay?” you wanted to make sure that he was okay

He nodded quickly. “Please tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable” he nodded once more.

You started to let your hand roam, first up his tattooed arms, next down over his clothed chest. He made no move so you decided to make the initiative and grab his hand to place it directly on your ass. 

“It's okay Noah, you can touch me too.” he nodded and with the smallest movement he squeezed on tenderly. 

Your left hand found the hem of his shirt and tugged on it. “Can I take this off?” you asked in your sweetest voice.

“ye.. yes…” 

You fisted the hem of the shirt in your hand and raised it to pull it over his hand once it was off you threw it to the floor behind you.

As you looked down at his chest you started to trace all the intricate ink adorn it. “I love your tattoos, they look so good on you”

“Thank you, i love getting tattooed, my best friend is a tattoo artist and he has done most of them, if you want one i could let him know..” 

You chuckled at his response.

“i'm sorry i tend to yap when im nervous.” he says apologetically

“Don't be, I think it's cute.” you said, leaning into him, lips just inches from his. 

Hands still roaming you decided that for now you would leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth and leave a trail down from mouth to his jaw, down his neck and moving down his chest. 

You were now down on your knees in between his legs looking up to him. without breaking contact you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. You could feel the shivers he was getting. 

“Do you want me to stop Noah?” you asked once more to make sure he was really okay.

“¡No!” he blurted so fast. 

That's all you need to hear, you grabbed onto the waistband off his boxers and pulled it down to free his now throbbing cock. Pink at the tip and veins running down to the base,

This time you decided not to ask and moved your hand to touch it and with small up and down motions you started to stroke it. 

A smirk grew on your face as you saw Noah's eyes roll back.

“Does it feel good Noah? Do you want more?” 

“It feels so good oh god” he threw his head back “Please more”

You saw a few beads of precum on his tip and used it as lubrication to move up and down a bit faster. 

You moved your head down so your lips could meet the tip.You gave a quick lip while maintaining eye contact with.

“Will you be a good boy for me Noah? Will cum in my mouth?” Hearing yourself saying it outloud shocked you a bit , you never been like this with anyone else but the feeling of dominating Noah and teaching him new things had you on a high.

“Yes, I'll be a good boy! yes..” he said with heavy breathing.

With that you went to town. You grabbed his cock at the base and brought the tip up to your mouth again. You licked once, twice before you fully opened your mouth and put it in. You started slow at first, moving your head up and down and licking all around. 

As the minutes passed you started to set a faster pace, now going down past the tip and to the middle almost reaching the base. You moved your hand that was at the base in unison with your mouth and moved it along up and down. 

You can feel Noah starting to shake and if it wasn't for all of your senses being heighting you would have heard him saying he wouldn't last much longer.

With your free hand you gripped at his thigh which still had his pants midway. as you make sure now to reach the base of his cock with your mouth. One small gagging sound you were knowing hitting his pubic hair with your nose.

A few head bobs later you felt the string of cum hitting the back of your throat, slowing down the motion off your head you detached and made a swallow sound, your hand grabbing on to him once more to give him a few last strokes. 

“Wow, that was…incredible…” he said in his shy voice again “no women has ever touched me or like this” he said turning red again

You chuckled while whipping your mouth  and said “Yeah? Maybe i can help you out more often, we can make it into a few lessons” you finish with a wink

“I'd like that…yes!” he said without hesitation while buttoning his jeans again. 

[marimayscarlett]

We're all so quick to reblog these posts about keeping fandom spaces alive, but look at the Rammstein fandom, look at it! 😭 It's getting quiet and nobody wants to admit it. 😓 Everyone is just quietly lurking or waiting for someone else to do something and it's heartbreaking!Same cycle, different fandom. 😣 We say we care, but we don't engage, we don't reblog, we don't hype each other up anymore! Some just resort to like posts as if they were on instagram! No reblogs! Some blogs that used to be so active just vanished! Where are they? 😭 We need to actually show up if we don't want this space to disappear like so many others! Thank god at least you and some other blogs still post content! 😭 I'm not aa creator, but I try to reblog everything with commentary, but it's getting increasingly frustrating because I'm screaming into the void😭😭😭

Hi 👋���

I guess this is in regards to this post.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this. I suppose it depends on how you look at the matter. Allow me to describe my impression:

I entered this fandom on here in 2015 and spent some time here. It was admittedly very lively, very open — lots of people reblogged things with their thoughts added in the caption (which admittedly isn’t as common anymore, at least from what I’ve noticed). There was a lot of joy and excitement when Rammstein in Amerika and Rammstein in Paris came to theatres.

And after I came back to Tumblr, I witnessed the same excitement for the tours in the last two years! Which isn’t surprising, considering the tons of new concert material we got in the form of official reels and pictures, as well as the vast amount of fan videos (which was absolutely not a given during the festival tours, mind you).

I’m not sure I share the view of the Rammstein fandom as stated in that ask, but I do understand the feeling of looking back wistfully and yearning for more excitement, joy, and togetherness. Surely, the activity on here isn’t as high as during the tours, but I think that’s only natural.

Let’s not forget that there are various reasons for reduced activity:

– No new material: no tour or other events this year, so there’s not much new apart from a few selfies of the band members. Reblogging and posting older content is always nice and plays into the bittersweet emotion of nostalgia, but even I can’t spend my whole day on it.

– Real life happens! Plus there are different focus points in life. The members of this fandom don’t only exist on this little platform. They have family, work, responsibilities, friends, worries, and things to deal with, as well as offline hobbies and other fandoms they’re part of — which is a good thing! There’s a risk of becoming too absorbed in one thing when there’s no variety. I can only speak for myself, but I also find joy outside of Rammstein in other areas of interest. Which is nice, life’s too short to miss out on all the fascinating topics this world has to offer.

– Other fan spaces: Instagram seems to have a considerably large Rammstein fandom, and there’s a fairly active (I think) Discord server for this fandom here as well. Some people just need a change of pace when it comes to platforms sometimes.

And yet — we’re still here. We have wonderful and incredibly skilled artists who spoil us with beautiful Rammstein art. We have very talented and creative fanfic authors among us who bring the band to life in various scenarios. We have diligent gif-makers who pick out funny and striking moments for us to stare at endlessly.

As someone without an ounce (!) of creativity in my body, I deeply appreciate all of them, as well as every single person in this fandom. Every like, reblog, and written thought — whether it’s opinions or thirst — contributes to keeping this fandom alive. 🤍

It’s always good to encourage more engagement — I totally get you! But I don’t think this fandom is in any danger of dying out anytime soon. At least from the blogs I interact with and based on my dash, there's quite a lot of activity happening. Maybe not as much as there used to; yet perhaps it will be more if we get new content ✨

[incomingalbatross]

I am going to have to chew on what you're saying about religion and relationship in Christian fantasy because I tend to shy away strongly from stories that make God a fictional character. One of the things I often cite as liking about A Canticle for Liebowitz is that it never tries to tell you what God is thinking or doing - it doesn't insert him into the text as a fictional character. Which is kind of exactly the opposite of what you and OP are praising in Narnia. And maybe there's a difference between something set in the Real World and something designed as Fantasy. But anyway I need to chew on this...

okay YES that's extremely valid! I can agree with that too - which suggests my opinion is either more complicated or more fickle than I realized. xP

I think... I think I want it acknowledged that God is a person. BUT making God a character is dicey, as you say. C. S. Lewis pulled it off I think, but... would I dare, personally?? Hngh.

I think it may, perhaps, be more about worldbuilding than narrative presence. As you say, with things set in the real world (or its speculative future), if it's Christian fiction we know Christ is there. We don't need to SEE him, and religious experiences should probably be depicted with caution and restraint.

But if you're writing a fantasy world that's supposed to exist in Christian cosmology (is that the right word? within a universe/multiverse created by God, I guess I mean - again, like Narnia), where the characters have religion - THEN I think what I'm really asking for is that God be at the center of that religion in a way that makes him recognizably Someone and not Something. At least if the character is motivated/sustained by their religion.

Because the more you're trying to depict your fantasy characters having realistic spiritual lives/experiences, the more I think the Force Of Goodness or Creator or Light or what have you that they lean on probably needs to be a Person?

On the other hand! In LotR characters are very clearly receiving graces and devoted to the good and soldiering on in virtue without Eru ever being so much as mentioned, so you can clearly write deeply spiritual Christian fiction without religion in it. And I have seen SW fanfic interpreting the Light Side in a very Christian way and loved that, while being stuck with "the Light Side of the Force" as about as impersonal a label as you can find. So maybe I'm just making things up here. I don't know.

I DO feel strongly about portraying the Trinity as Persons and not Functions, because it seems to me that religion is rather hollow if there isn't Someone you can love at the center of it all. But I also agree that portraying religion or spiritual life does NOT need God to be a "character" as such.

[dxxtruction]

Louis' "You're boring!" Could mean so many things, but I think what's most apparent about that line is that Armand takes no initiative just for himself. He's not really anybody, because he never goes out and finds himself or gets attached to anyone but Louis. Without Louis as his guide he's literally just sitting on a couch picking lint! That's the thing.

He orbits constantly around what would make Louis happy, and never really fully going what would make me happy? Ultimately that drive to please Louis is what drives him to torturing Daniel, not so much that he'd care to just do it. Ultimately, not giving proper care to Louis is just a way to make sure Louis knows he has to orbit around him as well, with shoving Lestat onto him just that other nail on the coffin. So, even if he fails to figure out how to make Louis happy with him, he still knows what Armand is good for, and better than.

That dependency is what drives Armand's abuse. It really just comes down to that. Armand doesn't even realize how suffocated he is by his own dependency. This is just how life is to him. (It shouldn't be lost either that dependency is a theme considering this episode also deals with addiction).

Daniel's fascinating because he's just so driven to be somebody. He's largely independent, he seeks things because he wants them. It's his drug to poke and prod at all the things that he shouldn't. Daniel's exciting because he lets Louis in to something different, lets him in to all this potential in another person that he can also do the same with for himself. It's a real connection. A two way street. It's easy to tell how Armand can be smothering then because he's never introducing him to anything really new, and most the ways both of them connect are all painful and traumatic. It's never just fun because there's always that layer of that pain. Fun died with Claudia.

50 years on they've gotten to a lot better place, both of them, but it's still that same shit. No seriously, "How is this any different from last time, Louis?"

Well... Because Armand's going to be, at the very least, making one [1] decision only for himself - and that's to hold power over Daniel's life. Fucking sick foreshadowing.

They aren't driving each other to the brink anymore but "The vampire is bored" STILL. Maybe it's even worse, despite being in better places, because Louis' sort of just been defeated by it. (I mean, can he even really leave this either?). He's accepting the dependancy cause he kind of has to. He'd literally ended up letting all the enjoyment be up where he can't reach [The book shelves]. Armand so desperately wants Louis happiness but what really ends up happening is that Louis ends up having to give Armand all his own. He's got no one or anything else to get it from. But like an iPad and an over the top eating ritual. Two extremes of what's just more lint picking.

This whole relationship is one I find just tragic inside and out. You have to just pity it, really. There's ways in which you can find yourself feeling bad for both of them. But you can only really be mad at Armand for any of it. Armand, who isn't even 'free' in any sense, having so little concept of his own independence, but is at the same time so controlling over other's. It's a tragic cycle. It's an infuriating one.

Louis at least has the mind to know when enough is enough. If just needing that extra push to get there. Armand's too scared of it being over to even try.

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[c0exiist]

Tatiana stood there absolutely confused with the revelation being presented to her. This whole time she had Cedric’s intentions all wrong. All those missed opportunities and time together could have happened earlier if they had just been honest with themselves. At this rate, she found the matter quite hilarious and inexcusable as they both were dancing around the idea of each other. However, the signs seemed to be completely there and on Tati’s end, she was too stubborn to realize it. “I…” She was at a loss for words as she began reflecting on the girls that he’d been with. It was all starting to make sense now, especially with the way they viewed her or his relationships were short lived. The mention of her comment about his boxing stance had her laughing instead she did remember that memory fondly, “Hey! I was very opinionated back then…And I know I still am, but at least now I can keep my intrusive thoughts at bay.” Her gaze immediately softened after hearing that he too didn’t want to risk their friendship. They both had the best intentions this whole time and it goes to show how much love they had for one another as they were always putting their needs first over their own. 

Cedric was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was one of the reasons why she adored him. He was always genuine and true to himself that he wasn’t afraid and even if he was, he knew how to put on a convincing brave face or always knew how to take it with a smile. This more so worried her when he started his career in boxing and when it ended. Despite everything, he still had heart and it was one of the many reasons why she fell in love with him. Therefore, to hear all this and see him not hold back had Tati in shambles as she felt like she fell short in their relationship. He was trying and she simply pushed him away. 

“You’re sweet.” she said at first before reaching for his hand again and holding it with her’s.  “I love you.” Tati flat out admitted with a soft smile. “Always have and always will and I agree, I feel like…losing you is scarier than being in this goddamn place and I guess with everything, I realized how short life is and how easy it is to miss opportunities and moments that matter…” Squeezing his hand gently, dark hues went back to the ring as she came to realize how surreal this all was, “I’m willing to give us a chance and build a future with you. I appreciate you being patient with me and I do want to take time to think about us before we officially tie the knot.” She wanted to be honest with him and marrying him right away would be too impulsive for her own good, instead she was willing to build their relationship together and strengthen it from all the time that was missed. As she met his gaze, a genuine smile crept onto her lips as she wanted Cedric to understand where she was coming from. "I know you're the one for me and I'm willing to give my heart completely to you. It wouldn't be fair to get married right away without encompassing both of our feelings and the certainty. I just want to make this right for the both of us and make up for the lost time."

His heart raced faster than it had in any boxing match as the word "rebound" left her lips. Rebound? The concept was so foreign to him it might as well have been in another language. Every single relationship he'd attempted over the past twenty years suddenly felt like he was just marking time, waiting for this moment. The ring between them blurred as his mouth decided to function independently from his brain. "Rebound? Jesus, Tati, you've got it completely backwards," he said, his voice sounding strangled even to his own ears. "If anything, every woman I've ever been with was the rebound from you." Twenty years of buried feelings came to the surface in one unplanned moment of honesty. It was like he couldn't stop himself. Trying to gather his scattered thoughts, he expelled a breath before going further. "No, it's not since we were fifteen? Try since the first time I met you and you told me my boxing stance looked stupid. I've been carrying this damn ring around for years, too scared to risk what we had, praying you'd somehow figure it out without me having to say it." His fingers traced the edge of the velvet pouch nervously. Deep down, he'd always known this day would come, but actually living it felt like stepping into the ring blindfolded. His heart hammered against his ribs as he forced himself to keep talking.

"I say anything because I was scared shitless of pushing you away." The only reason he'd kept his mouth shut for so long was because he wanted her not to hate him. "We've wasted so much time dancing around this when we could have been building something real." Her admission about pushing him away and coming back crushed him—they'd been circling each other for decades. All this time, and they'd both been hiding from the same truth. How crazy was that? "All those times I asked for advice about other women? I was testing the waters, hoping for some sign you'd be jealous or tell me to look closer to home. Meanwhile, I've been turning down perfectly good relationships because they weren't you. Not a single one of them could measure up." He finally met her eyes directly, all pretense abandoned. "They all knew it too. Every woman I've dated figured it out eventually. Why do you think none of them stuck around? They could tell I was comparing them to someone else. To you."

The tenderness in her gaze nearly broke him. After all these years of wondering, of doubting, of overthinking every interaction, here they were, finally honest with each other. "I'm tired of pretending. You gave me an opening and I figured it's like the universe giving me one chance to get it right." His throat tightened as he thought about his grandfather, who'd seen right through him from the beginning. "Pawpaw used to say we were too stubborn for our own good. Told me I'd waste my whole life waiting for the perfect moment if I didn't make one myself. Guess the old man was right all along." He swallowed hard, feeling more exposed than he ever had in his life, but also more certain. "And even with everything going on in this town, with all the danger, the scariest thing I've ever done was pull this ring out of my wallet tonight. I just... I want to know if you're willing to give this a shot. Give me a shot. We don't have to get married right away. I'll give you time to think about it. But if only want to," his face were the color of beets by now, he was sure, "only if you can see yourself loving me back and spending the rest of your life with me."

[deoidesign]

Just a reminder, I have a patreon!!!

I've been working on actually making stuff to post more often for the lower tiers, and have been consistently doing so!

I post at least a few sketches and drawings every month for the $1 and up patrons

and I've been working on episodes and sharing some updates with my $5 and up patrons

And I have a merch club for $15 a month, but there's still some $10 slots left! I design and send usually a postcard and some stickers to my patrons every month, but sometimes I'll do some experimental stuff; last month I did foil prints, for instance, and a few months before I made magnets!

It also gets you access to private channels in my discord server, where I ask for patron input on things like the merch or drawings, and where I sometimes stream while working :)

Buuuut also, even if you don't want any of this stuff, it's a great way to support me directly if you like my work! I'm still on hiatus so I'm not making any money from work at the moment, but I'm working hard and my patreon enables me at least to buy my groceries!

Here's the link one more time, no pressure of course but I need to promote my patreon more so people actually know it exists haha

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[maeamian]

You won't catch me contesting that the US Government sucks, but that doesn't actually make it's geopolitical rival, the Chinese Government, your friend, or an organization that also doesn't suck really bad.

[dragon-subway]

so my present for christmas this year was a pc (my first one ever!!!!!), specifcally going half an half on the payments and its running super well, just has some bits like bluetooth n wifi that need to be handled externally (wifi works semi ok bc it has the driver but not the usb it needs to properly work) since its refurbished from a super old model (they stopped in either 2013 or 2017 i dont remember off the top of my head) BUT the main reason i got this was so i could do stuff like blender and drawing and animation on it with less worries about space and functionality (blender makes my laptop flicker after a while for example) so really really looking forward to starting on things

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up

[ourceliumnetwork]

me, the symptoms experiencer, experiencing symptoms: wow gee i wonder what the fuck is happening right now i have no context for why i could possibly feel bad, surely i'm not experiencing symptoms. me, when i figure out it's the symptoms:

[psalmsofpsychosis]

So, i finished watching Batman (2022). Long story short, it's wonderful. The cinematography and the atmosphere are simply impeccable, it's got one of the best productions i have seen in blockbuster superhero movies in the last decade. The flow of the movie is perfectly executed and choreographed; it's a truly seamless visual experience, eye candy to the bone, and the story is intriguing and lovely and pleasing to the senses too. It's a reasonably well made movie.

It also does quite remind me of my main point of disdain towards live action Batman depictions post-Batman&Robin, which is, i think fellas take Batman way too seriously.

Listen, the guy walks around with fucking pikachu ears on for fucks sake. I dont think that straight up looney tunes comic relief is the right flavour to put in the live action batmanverse blender, even though it has the potential to be incorporated very well, but. There's a certain quality of offbeat, paculiar weirdness to Batman, a quality of almost playful and offputting bizarre wit, there always has been. He's got a fucking sith pikachu mask on. It's very human, very endearing almost. it's an element of imagination and wonder which is something Bruce Wayne has, even when it's corrupted to only include doom and gloom scenarios.

and the comics successfully translate that subtle wit and uncomfortable quality of all the characters, including Batman, by incorporating acidic colors, borderline hallucination-esque imageries, warped character designs, the whole thing feels like the worst acid trip you've ever had in an alley behind a bar and that's how the tone carries. It's how the worldbuilding and the characters feel congruent and authentic. The colors also give Batman a dynamic personhood by depicting his unceremonious humanity as much as they buff him up. There's a fun and gore-ish, psychopathic sincerity to the comics.

and the movies absolutely take that element out and all you get is the most "just some guy" artless character depictions and Batman himself doesn't feel human. he is written way too seriously for a guy who has pikachu ears and wears his underwear on his pants.

And this is by no means a Batman (2022) problem; it's a persisting trend of live action superhero media progressively stripping their stories of heart and soul because executive fellas have cought the "THIS IS A BIG FUCKING DEAL!!!!! EVERYTHING IS SO SERIOUS HERE!!!!!" disease and think giving superhero narratives their color and humanity back somehow makes them less poignant and significant. There's no sense of dynamism and wit to the batman movies, and the tone and atmosphere of Batman (2022) is fucking gorgeous, it's a singular experience, but it feels so out of place with Batman. It feels like Batman's costume belongs to another movie entirely, something more playful and weird.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

My hot take is that some of you who live vicariously through fictional familial relationships yearn for "a healthy loving family" the same way a lonely person yearns for the perfect boyfriend/girlfriend/partner who will sweep them off their feet and dote on them and love them always and only focus on them and take care of them and protect them and provide for them and give them a fairytale wedding

And it shows

[averlym]

a word to the wise sometimes the only true rest is looking beyond what you thought was success

so true! adamandi is full of wise advice such as this, including: "and you'll never feel better if you - fucking die- you stupid ass!"