#and i feel that encapsulates him perfectly

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer couldn't help but feel relief mixed with curiosity. Despite Jeffrey's appalling behavior and negative impact on Oliver's life, his death circumstances intrigued Spencer. He wondered if there was more to the story than what the official reports suggested. Spencer was secretly glad that Jeffrey was no longer a threat to Oliver, who had suffered enough under his torment. In darker moments, Spencer had even fantasized about being the one to end Jeffrey's reign of terror, feeling a visceral anger at the thought of him laying a hand on Oliver. How dare Jeffrey have caused so much pain to someone so undeserving? In Spencer's eyes, Oliver was the epitome of innocence, a gentle soul caught in the storm of Jeffrey's cruelty. He couldn't fathom how someone so kind and vulnerable had become the target of such malice. Spencer often found himself contemplating the unjust nature of it all, wondering what drove Jeffrey to such depths of depravity. Spencer often speculated that Jeffrey's cruelty stemmed from a profound self-loathing. It was as if Jeffrey projected his own insecurities and unhappiness onto others, using them as a scapegoat for his inner turmoil. Spencer believed that Jeffrey's inability to love himself translated into a need to control and inflict pain on those around him, perpetuating a cycle of misery.

Spencer also suspected that Jeffrey's apathy towards others was rooted in his inability to connect with the beauty in the world, including the beautiful darkness that Oliver embodied. In a way, Spencer felt a twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that Jeffrey would never again witness the resilience and grace that Oliver had shown despite his suffering. It was as if the world was finally righting itself, allowing Oliver to heal without the shadow of Jeffrey looming over him. Spencer marveled at the beautiful man standing before him, captivated by Oliver's quiet strength and allure. Oliver's resilience had not only allowed him to survive but to shine even brighter, a testament to the indomitable spirit that Jeffrey could never crush. In that moment, Spencer felt a fierce pride, knowing that Jeffrey was left to suffer in hell, unable to witness Oliver's flourishing in a world that was finally free from his tyranny.

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." He felt it perfectly encapsulated Oliver's journey, as he had emerged stronger and more radiant despite the darkness that surrounded him. Spencer saw Oliver as a symbol of hope and resilience, a living testament to the strength that can arise from the ashes of suffering. The way Oliver had transformed his pain into beauty and grace was nothing short of inspiring, and it was this transformative power that drew Spencer to him. Oliver's journey was a reminder that even in the darkest times, one could find a way to flourish and illuminate the world around them."Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." This sentiment resonated deeply with him, as Oliver's strength and character had been forged through adversity, creating a presence that was both profound and inspiring.

Spencer, feeling a deep sense of connection, couldn't help but marvel at how their paths intertwined. "Oliver," he said softly, "together, we've turned our scars into stars, lighting the way for each other. I believe we can create something extraordinary, something neither of us could have imagined alone." Spencer pondered the irony of their connection, how two souls born from the shadows could find solace in each other's light. He marveled at the way Oliver's resilience mirrored his own struggles, acknowledging that their shared darkness had become a foundation for something beautiful. In Oliver, Spencer saw not just a kindred spirit but a partner who understood the complexity of his own scars, and he felt an overwhelming gratitude for the unexpected gift of their bond. Spencer thought to himself that this was truly going to be something beautiful, a rare gift born from the shadows. In Oliver, he saw a beacon of light that illuminated even the darkest corners, a testament to the beauty that could emerge from pain. Oliver's presence was a reminder that even in the midst of despair, there was hope, and together they could create a future filled with love and possibility.

Spencer felt a warmth spread through him at Oliver's words, understanding the depth of what was being shared. With a soft smile, he replied, "It's in the depths of the shadow that we find our true colors." He knew that together, their intertwined darkness and light could paint a masterpiece of resilience and love, and he was ready to embrace every shade of it with Oliver by his side. He felt an inexplicable pull towards Oliver, a magnetic force that defied logic. Spencer was captivated by Oliver's allure, an irresistible blend of strength and vulnerability that he wanted to immerse himself in completely. Despite how crazy it seemed, he embraced the madness, eager to explore the depths of their connection and see where it would lead them. Spencer chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Only on Saturdays," he replied with a teasing smile, "that's when I'm usually off duty and free to indulge in such peculiar hobbies." He couldn't help but imagine Oliver as an FBI agent, seamlessly fitting into his team with his keen intuition and sharp analytical skills. Spencer envisioned Oliver as a natural profiler, someone who could read between the lines and understand the human psyche with remarkable precision. The thought amused him, and he was certain that Oliver's unique perspective would have made him an invaluable asset to any investigative unit.

Spencer's heart swelled with emotion, his eyes softening with a mix of surprise and admiration for Oliver's heartfelt confession. He reached out, gently taking Oliver's hand in his own, feeling the warmth of their connection pulse through his fingertips. "As the poet once said," Spencer murmured, his voice tender, "‘In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.’ You, Oliver, are that summer for me." Spencer's heart skipped a beat at Oliver's words, a soft smile spreading across his face. He felt warmth spreading through him, a connection both unexpected and exhilarating. "Well, it seems we've both cast quite the spell on each other," Spencer replied, his voice tinged with amusement and sincerity. "But I must confess, it's a mystery I'm more than willing to unravel alongside you." He felt a thrill at the thought of exploring this newfound connection, eager to dive deeper into the enigma that was Oliver.

Spencer chuckled softly as he noticed Oliver rising onto his tiptoes, finding the gesture endearing and utterly charming. He didn't mind the height difference; to him, Oliver was perfect just as he was. Gently, Spencer wrapped his arms around Oliver's waist, lifting him slightly to close the gap. "There's something magical about moments like these," Spencer whispered, "where our hearts dance to their own rhythm, unburdened by the world around us." Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and electrifying, a perfect blend of passion and warmth that seemed to transcend time itself. Spencer felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a moment of pure connection. His heart raced with a sense of belonging, knowing that in Oliver's embrace, he had found something truly extraordinary.

Spencer pulled back from the kiss, his fingers intertwined with Oliver's, and grinned. "Come," he said playfully, "let's go before these people around us get too envious of me for having the privilege of kissing such a handsome man." Spencer couldn't help but feel incredibly honored to share such an intimate moment with Oliver. Each kiss felt like a precious gift, even if he secretly wished they could last longer, savoring every second. In Spencer's mind, Oliver was an amazing kisser, and he cherished every moment they spent intertwined in each other's embrace. Oliver took the lead, guiding Spencer through the bustling streets with an easy confidence that Spencer found endearing. Thankfully, the hotel was just a short walk from the NYU campus, making their journey a brief but pleasant one. As they reached the entrance, Spencer handed Oliver a slip of paper with his address and phone number, grinning as he said, "Meet me at my apartment later, so we can continue this adventure." Spencer pulled Oliver close once more, placing an innocent kiss on his forehead. "Remember," he murmured softly, "every goodbye is just the promise of our next hello." With a gentle squeeze of Oliver's hand, he reluctantly let go, already anticipating their next meeting.

As Spencer walked away, his heart was a whirlwind of emotions—joy, anticipation, and a touch of longing. Every step felt lighter, buoyed by the memory of their shared moments and the promise of more to come. He couldn't help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful between them. As Spencer made his way to his apartment, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbled within him. He had never invited anyone over before, and the thought of sharing his personal space with Oliver made his heart race. Would Oliver appreciate the eclectic collection of books that lined his shelves, or would he find it overwhelming? Spencer wondered if lighting a fire in the small fireplace would create a cozy atmosphere or if it might feel too intimate for their first evening together. He resolved to tidy up and make everything as welcoming as possible, hoping Oliver would feel at home in his little sanctuary.

Upon entering his apartment, Spencer placed his bag on the couch and proceeded to his bedroom. Following a quick shower, he changed clothes and grabbed a change of clothes. Anxious to plan a dinner date, he sat down at his desk. Spencer then thought about what to serve for dinner, deciding that ordering in wouldn't capture the romantic essence he was aiming for. He rushed to his kitchen and checked the fridge, relieved to find a couple of steaks waiting for him. With a plan forming in his mind, he envisioned preparing a simple yet elegant meal, complete with a fresh salad and perhaps a bottle of wine to set the perfect tone for their evening together. Spencer quickly unwound the corkscrew and opened the bottle of wine, letting it breathe while he washed his hands and tied an apron around his waist. He felt a sense of calm wash over him as he began to chop vegetables for the salad, the rhythmic motions helping to soothe his nerves. With each task, Spencer's anticipation grew, eager to welcome Oliver into his world and share a memorable evening together. He realized that he had never gone to such lengths for anyone before, which only reinforced how special Oliver was to him.

Usually content with simple meals and solitude, Spencer found himself wanting to impress and connect with Oliver in a way he hadn't with anyone else. It was as if Oliver had unlocked a part of his heart that Spencer had kept hidden away, and he was ready to embrace this newfound vulnerability. It was crazy, Spencer admitted to himself, considering they had only just met. Yet, the allure Oliver held was so consuming that the mere thought of losing it sent waves of panic through him. Spencer couldn't help but wonder at the intensity of his feelings, compelled by the magnetic pull that Oliver seemed to have on his heart.

He wanted every detail to reflect the care and thought he had put into planning the evening. From the soft music playing in the background to the carefully arranged table setting, Spencer aimed to create an atmosphere that would make Oliver feel cherished and appreciated. As he finished his preparations, he glanced at the clock, his heart fluttering with the hope that this night would be the start of something truly special. A flicker of doubt crossed Spencer's mind, wondering if Oliver might not appreciate his efforts or even find it overwhelming. What if Oliver preferred a more casual setting or didn't even like steak? The thought made Spencer pause, considering whether he was projecting his own desires onto Oliver without fully understanding what he might enjoy. Despite the uncertainty, Spencer resolved to continue with his plan, hoping that the sincerity behind his actions would ultimately shine through and resonate with Oliver.

He took a deep breath and checked the clock again; it was almost time. Spencer double-checked the table, ensuring everything was in place, and then turned his attention to the steaks, deciding to start cooking them just before Oliver's expected arrival. As the minutes ticked by, he busied himself with minor adjustments, his anticipation growing with each passing second. Finally, the doorbell rang, and Spencer's heart leapt with excitement and a touch of nervousness as he went to greet Oliver, hoping the evening would unfold just as he had imagined.

Oliver killing his stepfather wasn’t something he’d planned. there had been brief thoughts of it growing up, but almost any child who spent their life abused would think about killing their abuser one way or another- that doesn’t mean there was ever any intent to it. when Oliver came home, the home in which his mother and aunt were murdered in, the same home he spent his entire childhood in despite that fact, he hadn’t expected his stepfather to come back. he’d made sure he was gone for the night and had even called the house ahead of time to make sure he wasn’t home. unfortunately, while Oliver was making his rounds in the house, trying to find what he’d been looking for -an item of his mother’s- he’d been surprised by his stepfather’s visitation. he’d been so surprised to see Jeffrey there, that he screamed out, covering his mouth with his hand as the item fell from his grasp and hit the ground. it was a necklace -his mother’s favorite necklace- so it didn’t break on impact, but it remains lost to this day. as soon as Jeffrey had seen Oliver, he smirked at him and slammed the door shut.

‘well, well, well, what do we have here? the boy’s finally come home?’ Jeffrey sneered, ignoring the necklace as he made his way to Oliver, essentially trapping him as Oliver couldn’t get to the front door. he had run into the kitchen, gasping for breath, his stepfather was on his tail. ‘what? don’t want to talk to your old man?’ Jeffrey said, laughing as Oliver grabbed a knife from the drawer. ‘what are you going to do with that, boy? you going to kill me? think again.’ and then Jeffrey charged at Oliver and everything else is history. they battled each other until Oliver got the upper hand, after slicing his own hands in the process, he finally managed to get the knife into Jeffrey’s stomach and watched as surprise flickered across the man’s face. then, a gleeful expression passed over his face as he looked at Oliver like he was suddenly the most interesting person in the world. he grabbed Oliver’s face in his hands. ‘kill me. go on. do it. kill me.’ then, he moved his hands down his face and began to squeeze his neck. ‘KILL ME!’

Oliver shakes his head out of his thoughts, the darkness settling over his heart. thinking about Jeffrey always left a bad taste in his mouth, something rotten and bad that made him want to barf. he doesn’t know why he continues to torture himself with these memories. they haunted him like the plague; insistent and dangerous, never to leave once you get a whiff of it. Oliver was destined to be stuck with these memories for the rest of his life. he’d lived them- he wasn’t lucky enough to forget them. he wishes he could. oh, how he wishes he could just forget them. he would do anything to be able to forget those moments, those precious few moments of ending his stepfather’s life. he remembers being scared for his own life, thinking ‘wow, this is it. this is how i die’ but then it never happened. he came out on top and killed his stepfather. the power he felt then- he’d never felt anything quite like it before. it was intoxicating and he knew that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to want to do it again.

that’s the thing about the darkness, right ?? once it latches onto you, it’s very hard to get rid of and for Oliver, it’s been a part of his life since the very beginning. he was raised in the shadows, haunted by them, how could he ever possibly escape them ?? how could he ever think that was a possible scenario for him ?? he was trapped in this endless loop of darkness. it was eternal with no end in sight. but suddenly, there was a beacon of light that shines down on him and as he gets closer and closer, he realizes the light has lead him straight to Spencer. it’s beautiful really- the allure to the darkness has lead him straight into the arms of what he perceives as light. while he knows Spencer has his own shadows, his own darkness, the light outweighs anything deadly that he’s perceived. as Spencer had said before, two darks can create a paradox and create light. that’s what they’re doing now- creating light. Oliver wants to see what else they can create together- a beautiful masterpiece awaits their journey. he’s ready to see it unfold before his very eyes.

Oliver’s love for teaching stems from the fact that he wants to be what no one was to him- a source of guidance and lightness to an otherwise dark subject matter. his stories aren’t for the faint of heart; anyone who has read them would see that. they’re gruesome and horrible and terrifying in their own way, but they also bring a sort of understanding to the darkness that one may not have noticed before. as Oliver had mentioned before, you can’t have darkness without light and you can’t have light without darkness. his stories are a prime example of that. his main character goes through these trials and tribulations in every book as they chase after a serial killer, the haunting reality of the real world. ‘there are real monsters in this world,’ Oliver wrote in one of his books. ‘and they look just like you and me.’ Oliver has seen them firsthand and has since understood the complexities that comes with the human psyche due to the trauma inflicted upon him. he’d never have become such a successful writer if he didn’t have this trauma and for that, he supposes, he can thank Jeffrey for, but he feels sick to his stomach at the mere thought of ever thanking him for such a horrible gift.

he looks at Spencer now and feels a sense of calmness wash over him- a calmness he’s never felt before. it feels . . . good, like taking a drink of cool water after a long day out in the sun. it’s refreshing. if anyone understood what it was like to be lost in the darkness, it was Oliver. Oliver had spent so long lost in it, he didn’t think he’d ever be found. but here, right now, he found a source of light and it was so beautiful, it made him want to shed a tear. he wanted to consume the light, to make it a part of himself. maybe then, he can feel like he himself is worthy of it. “darkness can be beautiful,�� he continues with a small smile on his lips. “you just have to know where to look.” perhaps it’s way of saying he thinks Spencer’s darkness is beautiful . . . if anything, he thinks this is true. while he hasn’t seen it firsthand, he can feel his darkness and he knows it’s something beautiful. he wouldn’t want to tarnish it with the light, but maybe by gracing it with a little of his own darkness, he can pull it out just enough to let its beauty wash over him. he knows he can do it- if he tries hard enough, he thinks maybe he could get Spencer to do anything.  

when Oliver’s mother was still alive, he had definitely wanted to pursue a life of crime fighting. he wanted to be a police officer, even take a step further and be an FBI agent. it had been on his list of things he wanted to be. him and his mom and his aunt used to watch crime shows together all the time and it had inspired Oliver to want to be something more than himself. but the abuse and the murders and the lack of care from the police department had tarnished that. he thought that if they didn’t care about him then, who do they possibly care about ?? he didn’t want to be a part of something that didn’t care for him. so, from that moment on, he’d put that idea behind him and pursued his career of teaching and writing. it seemed to do the trick for him, at least. he appreciates the compliment though, blushing a little at Spencer’s comment. “oh ?? you like to be handcuffed, Doctor Reid?” he teases, a small bite to his lip as he tries to hide the smile on his face. now that he’s said the words out in the open, he can’t help but imagining a scenario in which Spencer is handcuffed and it leaves him a blushing mess; he has to look away from Spencer’s watchful gaze, afraid that if he looked hard enough, he could read what he was thinking about.

Oliver finally looks back at Spencer when he speaks about seeing him as sunset/sunrise, and can’t help the smile that graces his features because of it. he likes the astonishment on Spencer’s face, like he can’t believe someone would think something like that of him, but here Oliver was, proving that someone can do just that. “i thought today was going to be just another day,” he explains quietly, looking down shyly. “i didn’t expect there to be so much beauty in my life because of you. i feel this pull towards you, like every breath i take was meant to bring me closer to this moment. i know that sounds silly, but this . . . thing between us, i can feel it in my soul. no one’s ever made me feel this way before. it’s different with you somehow. you’re this new beginning i’ve been searching for my entire life, a beacon on the shore after being lost out in the storm.”

Oliver’s reaction to the magic trick was genuine. he felt excitement and happiness at having experienced it firsthand. he’s never been to a carnival or a fair. he’s never experienced magic firsthand, but this experience was well worth the wait. a part of him feels freed from the constraints holding them back, a part of his child’s soul releasing into the air, running free as laughter echoed in his ears. it was everything to Oliver and while it seems small and insignificant, it truly means everything. Spencer has no idea what he’s done for Oliver; such a small act had done something so profound for him, he couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling that blossoms in his chest. all he knows is that it’s something special, something worth keeping forever. he has no intention of letting this moment slip away. there’s few things in Oliver’s life he gets to keep and this moment is one of those things he’s going to hold onto for the rest of his life. this moment is unique- it was written in the stars, like it was meant to be. a truly magical moment, it would put the stars to shame. he huffs out a gentle laugh at what Spencer says, his cheeks going rosy yet again. he’s going to have to get used to all this blushing, he feels, for he doesn’t think it’s ever going to end. “enchanted, are we?” he teases gently, his gaze warm. “i’m no enchantress, but i too feel enchanted by you. you’re an enigma, Spencer Reid, and i am truly enchanted to meet you.”

Oliver smiles at Spencer as he gets up, following after him. he doesn’t quite realize just how tall Spencer is in comparison until he’s standing side by side again, almost baffled by the man’s looming height. but he hardly has a chance to think about it before Spencer’s speaking and scooping him forward into a passionate, intense kiss, that leaves Oliver grappling with reality as he stands on the tips of his toes to lessen the distance between them and return the kiss just as intensely. people are watching them again; he can feel eyes on the back of his head, but he’s too enraptured by this kiss to really notice. his hands have found their home on each side of Spencer’s face, holding onto him for dear life as they kiss. it leaves his heart hammering in his chest, the feeling of wanting to swallow Spencer whole overcoming him as his eyes close. the kiss is electric and it’s everything Oliver didn’t know he needed in this lifetime. when he pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, there’s a quiet laughter that leaves him. “if our journey consists of more of this, i think I’m more than ready to explore it.”

[bizarrelittlemew]

Fave part of ac4 is how the stede characterization is the dumbest guy you've ever met. And when he gets used as a foot stool

absolutely. i love how (seemingly) every portrayal of Stede Bonnet just goes in the direction of "useless and a bit pathetic but very enthusiastic blond man". and they're right ❤

[laurearte]

Leorio qui se tape le jogging de l’examen de Hunter en costar est à mes yeux le summum de l’humour et c’est une énergie qui ne devrait jamais être omise de toute considération de son personnage

[itspileofgoodthings]

#yes all of this#and re: the three interwoven storylines-- they're bound together by the title which perfectly encapsulates how these things are related#and the structure of the album has a complexity to it that I think is very well thought through#and there are so many nuances to why it is laid out the way it is and i get some of those nuances but many i can just sense are there#but they ARE there#and you have this sophisticated blend of light and dark that balances so well#and songs like but daddy i love him that are talking on multiple levels at once (its a hopeless romantic dream for how they're going to run#away together; its a petty tirade against the onlookers; its a self aware commentary on her destructive habits. its all three at once)#and several of the fame songs anticipate what you talked about here--the public's need to take aim and find fault#and the songs rise to meet that in different ways#Clara bow is sitting at the halfway point staring the critics who are sick of her straight in the face and indicting them#but there's a progression into the second half where the feelings are less predictable#like as the relationship grows more distant there's more room for these diverse feelings about it (but its still unified by that)#and where many of the songs on the first half feel like they capture a wild gut reaction#the second half is more reflective#more distant#the black dog i look in peoples windows chloe and everybody else imgonnagetyouback etc are all past the initial breakup(s)#and are looking back in different states of mind#which makes the whole thing lead up to the manuscript#and with that distance reflections on other past relationships start to get folded in (romantic and non- peter and thank you aimee)#(and the bolter and cassandra)#so that the whole thing (both halves) leads neatly into the manuscript#And that's why it deserves all the grammys tag commentary via @cogentranting

opinion: I think tortured poets department is great top to bottom, standard album and the anthology, I think the “this needs editing!” take has been wildly overstated if not completely untrue (I think it’s completely untrue), I agree with Harvard professor and literary critic Stephanie Burt that it’s got three complex interwoven storylines happening at the same time—loss of a long time love, loss of the chaotic and ultimately darkly empty rebound, and Taylor grappling with the hollowness of fame and ultimately her own mortality in the wake of both. It has everything you could want from a Taylor album and more INCLUDING the bangers many want to pretend aren’t there; it’s just that the public has never been more out of tune with her. They want to believe that it’s a bad album because they wanted a bad album from her. They truly felt it was her “time” to have a bad album and there is not a thing the public loves more than when they feel it is time for something. she is an artist who is pretty much always capable of capturing the zeitgeist but also of necessity moves in and out of it because she has her own real artistic journeys to go on and those will not always align with the cultural moment. and what is more, I think a Taylor album has never aligned with the cultural moment less, a testament to the album not a knock on it as the current cultural moment is a love of the empty-headed, the rat-brained, the sparklingly numbing emptiness. the public, someone, anyone not being in the mood for something doesn’t make it bad it means they are not in the mood for it and they’re not in the mood. but none of that changes the fact that the work is good all the way through nor the fact that time will bear that truth out. in this essay I will

[dirtyassvoiceactors]

Dorian getting HDYWDT(prob phase one) on a chromatic orb, and describing that the last time he used it was when Orym was being eaten by a wall in beginning of the campaign, he continues proving he’s the Romantic Bard of All Time,

HOWEVER!

I remembered something cuz he’s for those reasons my hyperfixation through the campaign, and checked and… technically speaking with Bells Hells it was the last time he used the spell… but, with Crown Keepers in c3e93 was the last time he cast it… in thunder damage… and accidentally hit Cyrus too when he cast on the spider to save him… *scream sobs*

[ariminiria]

just. how casually. how easily. how very second-naturedly Jack reaches out from the driver's seat and grabs Mac by the belt when he's hanging out the window of a moving car. the trust. the brotherhood.

[lichilly]

“I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met.”

— The Night We Met by Lord Huron

cw implied death, angst, OWWW OWWWIE OWWW

The day starts as usual.

The sun rises, birds chirping as you push open the balcony door to let the morning air in. Joseph steps out, a cigarette already between his fingers. You join him, two mugs of coffee in your hands. He takes one from you with a grateful smile, you both settle into the routine.

The day is beautiful. The suns warm embrace on your skin makes you want to linger there forever, soaking in her rays.

“What d’ya want for breakfast?” he asks, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

You ponder for a moment, imagining the taste of different dishes. “How about…pancakes?” you suggest, feeling your mouth water at the thought.

Joseph chuckles, stubbing out his cigarette and taking a final gulp of his coffee. “Pancakes it is then.”

You eat breakfast together at the table. Joseph flips through his script between bites, humming under his breath and glancing at the clock occasionally. A quiet sigh escapes him as he polishes off his plate.

He rises, placing his dirtied plate on the sink, setting his empty mug on top. He walks over to you, gently pushing your hair back and kissing your forehead.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

You hum, cheeks warming from the kiss. “I’ll pick up stuff to make your favorite for dinner tonight. I know we haven’t had it in a while.”

His eyes light up, “Sounds like a plan.”

He heads towards the entryway, grabbing his jacket. He looks back at you, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Don’t worry, filming shouldn’t take long today. I’ll be home before you know it.”

The butterflies in your stomach flutter with his words.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you reply, eyes droopy with morning grogginess and love.

The door clicks shut behind him, you watch a moment longer. Your eyes trace over the knob, down the mysterious crack in the wood, and watch his shadowy steps fade away. A sudden uneasiness creeps in, filling your gut with a syrupy ache. The butterflies no longer flutter, their wings cut, leaving you with a heavy feeling in their place.

You try to shake it off, but the feeling lingers, the knot in your stomach tightening with each tick of the clock. Hour after hour, minute after minute, you try to distract yourself with meaningless chores. You go grab things for dinner, the hustle and bustle of the store creating a dull hum over the pit in your stomach. A weak balm that doesn’t last the second you step through the apartment door again.

Night falls, groceries left forgotten on the counter. Seconds tick by painfully slow, each one a reminder of his absence. You can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

Joseph doesn’t return that night, or any night after that.

[daddy-long-legssss]

anytime i see a picture/video of miles and alex laughing or simply staring at each other during taotu or in 2011/2012, i always think about this line from @stereobone’s absolutely gorgeous ‘the italian job’

‘their love was so enormous neither of them knew where to put it’

and then i cry all over again

[therooknook]

Never got around to posting this beautiful and perfect comm I got from @talentlesshuman a few months ago!

(And the ref I gave her lol)

[stengeldive]

if you were to crack open my brain and pour it out this is the only thing in there

[bisexual-maelstrom12]

I love that Barack Obama included boygenius in his summer playlist and I also love that Lucy Dacus called him a war criminal

[goldentigerfestival]

Yuri's dialogue (JP) is so fascinating to study, like... the repetitive use of certain words/phrases that others use sparingly but he uses constantly. the way it feels like his vocabulary is more expansive than what he uses, but he defaults to a "comfort" level of speech. the way it mixes in with his sort of "street talk" words and the sheer level of informality. the way his "street talk" phrasing is contrasted by the tone of his voice (on that note, people I know who also know JP are also very endeared by these aspects of him so I KNOW IT'S NOT JUST ME!!!).

'cause the thing is, he uses phrases that yeah, other people do use, but he uses a handful over and over and over (contrast to other characters' sparing use of repetition). it's actually... really refreshing? it sounds more relatable and less "video game/anime/JRPG/RPG" writing or something, idk. like closer to how a real person would speak.

I do my best in my translations not to make things sound too stiff across the board, but Yuri makes it so easy. it's why I'm so interested in translating all his lines in Vesperia, like... the actual, original tone for him with his original wording because it's smth Eng only players don't get to experience ('cause even if you listen with JP audio, if you don't know the language, ofc you're gonna miss out on context. it's nobody's fault for not knowing, just... they unfortunately miss out). the thing is, there are a lot of times when the lines in and of themselves are not contextually incorrect in the English ver (usually the situation for smaller scenes, because they altered the text outright for more important stuff which was the stuff that originally set me off, but there were also plenty of cases of just vocal tone shifting with the correct context that still gave off the wrong impression), but Yuri's tone is shifted away from the original in Eng even though it's completely and perfectly translatable.

I am by no means about to translate the entire game because let's face it, I really don't care that much for Vesperia on the whole. I'm kinda stuck with it because Yuri's there lo and behold I actually am WAY more engaged in his stories in Rays, Link and Asteria because it's an amazing character put into circumstances where he actually gets to shine and feels more alive, which Vesperia did not provide nearly as well with its very disjointed story. also, Tales gachas have banger stories that are arguably better than the mainline games, and they regularly make Yuri a very central character to the gachas. Crestoria was also about to do it until they pulled the plug on that game and I'm pretty confident something interesting has been lost to the world. also I just generally don't have the energy or motivation to do that, so... I'll only be focusing on Yuri's lines, especially because his stuff is where the bulk of the messing around was. he's just insanely fun to translate for and I love burying myself head first into his speech.

will I actually finish this project? dunno. will I get around to posting it? whatever I get done (so all of it if I complete it), and if I decide to call it quits then I'll post what I have at the time I decide that. will it take a long time? probably, but I can always mention stuff along the way...

[butch-muppet]

ive been considering changing my url for at least a year but never thought of anything until now, when i literally sat bolt upright in bed with the perfect name idea having been dropped into my brain

anyway worfsrozhenko -> butch-muppet

[mars-ipan]

i think part of why i love tsp is i love horror but hate threats

[sukugo]

talking about creep anakin, we can have an anakin who forces himself on obi-wan, who's admittedly predatory.

but if we try to remove that. say anakin not actually coming up to obi-wan or forcing him to do anything, just wanting and perhaps making his desire known. in this case, his actions may not be predatory, forceful, themselves. but. they still come across as such due to his condition as child of the force.

so even if anakin doesn't particularly DO anything to obi-wan, doesn’t really act pushy, it won't stop it from feeling that way for obi-wan, who falls victim to the force's whims (which are, in turn, defined by anakin)

so, it's not like either of them have a choice.

anakin can't stop the force from pleasing him. and obi-wan can't stop.... well, anything the force does.

[jam-the-hologram]

I love having a brother